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SELECTIONS 
FROM SIDNEY LANIER 



BOOKS BY SIDNEY LANIER 
Published by CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS 



Poems. Edited by his Wife, with a Memo- 
rial by William Hayes ward. With 
portrait. 12mo net |2.00 

Select Poems of Sidney Lanier. 

Edited, with an Introduction and Notes, 
by Prof. Morgan Callaway, Jr., 
University of Texas. r2mo . . net $1.00 

Hymns of the Marshes. With 12 full, 
page illustrations, photogravure frontis- 
piece, and head and tail pieces. 8vo net (2.00 

Bob. The Story of Our Mocking Bird. 
With 16 full-page illustrations in colors 
ftrom photographs by A. R. DUGMORB. 
12mo net %0.1h 

Letters of Sidney Lanier. Selections 
from his Correspondence. 1866-1881. With 
two portraits in photogravure. 12mo net $2.00 

Retrospects and Prospects. Descrip- 
tive and Historical Essays. 12mo . net $1.50 

Music and Poetry. A Volume of Es- 
says. 12mo net $1.50 

The Engrltsh Novel. A Study in the De- 
velopment of Personality. Crown 8vo net $2.00 

The Science of English Verse. Crown 

8vo net $2.00 

The Lanier Book. Selections for 
School Reading. Edited and arranged 
by Mary E. BURT. in co-operation with 
Mrs. Lanier. Illustrated. (Scribner 
Series o/ School Reading.) 12mo . net $0.50 

Selections from Sidney Lanier. Prose 

and Verse for Use in Schools, r2mo net $0.50 

BOY'S LIBRARY OF LEGEND AND 
CHIVALRY 
The Boy's Frolssart. Illustrated. Al. 

FRED Kappes net $1.80 

The Boy's King: Arthur. Illustrated 

net $1.80 
Knightly Legends of Wales ; or. The 

Boy's Mabinogion. Illustrated . net $1.80 
The Boy's Percy. Illustrated . net $1.80 



SELECTIONS 
FROM SIDNEY LANIER 



PROSE AND VERSE 



WITH AN INTRODUCTION AND NOTES 
EDITED BY 

HENRY W. LANIER 



CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS 

NEW YORK CHICAGO BOSTON 



13 



Copyright, 1916, bt 
CHAELES SCRIBNER'S SONS 




iCI,A427108 



CONTENTS 



PAGE 

INTRODUCTION vii 

POEMS 

The Tournaivient , , 1 

^ Life and Song 5 

• Song for "The Jacquerie," I 6 

Song for "The Jacquerie," II 7 

Thar's More in the Man than Thar Is in the 

Land 8 

/ The Power of Prayer 10 

\/ The Symphony 15 

K^ The Discovery 27 

^ Evening Song 32 

Song of the Chattahoochee 32 

•^ The Mocking-Bird 34 

Taaipa Robins 35 

•^ The Revenge of Hamish 36 

^ A Song of the Future 42 

^ The Marshes of Glynn 43 

l/ How Love Looked for Hell 49 

k^Marsh Song — at Sunset 53 

• Owl Against Robin 53 

V 



vi CONTENTS 

PAGB 

A Song of Love 56 

V A Ballad of Trees and the Master .... 56 

Marsh Hymns 67 

Control 57 

Sunrise 58 

POEM OUTLINES 67 

PROSE 

The War-Flower 70 

The Charge of Cain Smallin 76 

The Ocklawaha River 90 

The Tragedy of the Alamo 107 

The Story of a Proverb 117 

The Legend of St. Leonor 126 

Bob: The Story of Our Mocking-Bird . . . 129 

An English Hero of a Thousand Years Ago . 142 

The Story of Silas Marner 151* 

NOTES 157 



INTRODUCTION 

THE LIFE OF LANIER 

I. BOYHOOD— COLLEGE DAYS 
1842-1860 

A FEW years before the Civil War there was living 
in the town of Macon, Ga., a boy named Sidney 
Lanier. He was a slender fellow, with large gray 
eyes which harbored dreams yet easily flashed into 
quick humor or set to an almost fierce intentness — 
eyes that could look unblinking into the full blaze 
of the sun. He joined enthusiastically in the games 
of Macon boys, from marbles to the all-year-round 
coasting down steep Pine Hill with barrel-stave 
sleds, on which one sped over the slippery pine 
needles almost as fast as a Canada boy covers the 
toboggan slide; with his brother or other companions 
he spent many a Saturday in the woods, marshes, 
and "old fields" near the river, looking for Indian 
arrow-heads, picking haws and hickory nuts, hunt- 
ing doves, snipe, and rabbits; but every now and 
then he liked to get off alone on a fishing trip, fre- 
quently stealing out of the house by dawn with his 
lunch in his pocket, to spend a solitary day on the 
banks of the Ocmulgee. He brought home fish 
from these excursions, but he brought also pictures 

vii 



viii INTRODUCTION 

of placid river and starry water-lilies and tangled 
thicket and clambering jessamine vines, and vague 
young dreams that nestled in these coverts. 

He was a favorite with other boys. To begin 
with, he was quick, electric, flashing, full of jokes 
and gaiety, full of ideas. He could mimic to the 
life a travelling showman, the slow "Crackers," 
some negro fun-maker; with his flute he could imi- 
tate the birds' calls with bewildering exactness. 
When he was only six, his first circus incited him to 
get up a home performance with his brother and 
sister. At twelve, after reading Froissart and Scott, 
he had organized a military company, uniformed in 
white and blue, which was armed first with bows 
and arrows, then with wooden guns. And so faith- 
fully were they drilled that on one memorable 
Fourth of July, when the Floyd Rifles and Macon 
Volunteers, many of them veterans of the Mexican 
and Indian Wars, paraded in state, the boys' com- 
pany turned out too, and made such a creditable 
showing that they were all invited to the big dinner, 
and their leader was called on to answer to a toast. 
Then he was at once brave and gentle: a striking 
mixture of sensitiveness with a spirit that stopped 
at nothing when aroused. Fifty years after it hap- 
pened, a boyhood friend told of his wonder at the 
way in which Sidney, then just a little fellow, 
stood the pain of an accident, when a window fell 
on his finger and took the end right off; and in the 
only fight his school fellows remember — a formal 
challenge to meet and settle matters in the alley 
after school — the other fellow, finding himself get- 



INTRODUCTION ix 

ting the worst of it, pulled out a big barlow knife: 
the circle of watchers were too much awed to do 
anything at first; but on seeing Sidney rush for- 
ward as determinedly as ever and tackle his oppo- 
nent in spite of this wicked looking weapon, they 
all closed in and separated the pair. 

Another thing which marked him out among the 
boys who were getting ready for college at the 
"'Cademy," was a native musical ability. Before 
he was six he would rattle a rhythmical accompani- 
ment on the bones in perfect time to his mother's 
piano music; at seven he had made himself a reed 
flageolet, and when Christmas brought a little one- 
keyed yellow flute he would shut himself up after 
school and practise by the hour on this. His 
mother taught him the notes on the piano, and he 
promptly passed on this new knowledge to John 
Booker, a musical negro barber of the neighborhood 
(who later had a famous troupe of darky minstrels 
which toured this country and Europe), Presently 
he had a minstrel troupe of his own among his boy 
friends, and learning to play passably well on half 
a dozen instruments before he could write legibly, 
he was always the centre of a gay quartet, an amateur 
band, or some more ambitious musical group. 

Just before his fifteenth birthday he entered 
Oglethorpe College; but his father, who though 
devotedly fond of him, was always fearful of the 
quickness of his impulses and of his passion for 
music, withdrew him presently on hearing of him 
as leader in the serenading parties of the college 
boys. So he spent most of a year as a clerk in the 



X INTRODUCTION 

Macon post-office, entertaining family and friends 
with a host of comical stories of the queer back- 
country folk who came in for mail; and then, in 
1858, he returned to Oglethorpe, entering as a 
Junior. 

There were many evidences during these years 
of an unusual combination of mental qualities. 
He had the true scholar's passion for exact knowl- 
edge (much fostered by contact with James Wood- 
row, a man of rare quality, who became interested 
in the alert young student, and gave him something 
of his own confident outlook on the new world then 
opening in science through the work of Darwin 
and Huxley); hard work and quick intellect put 
him at the head of his classes, and he especially 
distinguished himself in mathematics; yet at the 
same time he was absorbing Keats, Shelley, Cole- 
ridge, Tennyson, and the other great poets, and be- 
ginning on quiet walks in the woods to try to ex- 
press some of the poetic fancies to which his reveries 
had given birth — efforts resulting at that time in 
"mere doggerel," according to one intimate; a keen 
delight in the picturesque romances of the days 
of chivalry, in the humor and whimsicalities and 
conceits of Montaigne, Burton, Don Quixote, Rey- 
nard the Fox, went side by side with a profound 
satisfaction in the mystical and metaphysical specu- 
lations of German philosophers, to whom he was 
drawn through his pleasure in Carlyle; he had be- 
gun to play the violin with such effect upon himself 
that he would at times lose consciousness and come 
to his senses hours later, much shaken in nerves. 



INTRODUCTION xi 

His father was fearful of this musical stimulation, 
and induced him to give up that instrument; so, 
returning to the flute on which he had specialized 
since his childhood days, he soon had organized a 
quartet of gay flute and guitar players which, after 
much practising together, would sally forth on 
Friday evenings to serenade the pretty girls of the 
village. On these excursions he was the musical 
leader and the life of the party. When things went 
wrong they laughed at themselves: 

"I recall on one very cold winter night," says a 
college comrade, "when the serenading party, with 
benumbed fingers, had performed the three or four 
conventional tunes of the serenade at the house of 
General Lamar, whose daughter was one of the local 
belles, that the gray-haired butler appeared at the 
door, not to invite the chilled troubadours into a 
warm parlor for refreshments, but to announce 
that 'Marsa an' de young ladies done been down 
to de plantation 'bout a week.' " 

Often the group would meet in the evening, and 
Lanier would start forth on an improvisation; call- 
ing out the key, he would dash into an endless 
stream of melody, his friends accompanying as best 
they could — the whole frequently ending in some 
uproarious darky breakdown. He was in the thick 
of all the jokes; one morning, at the boarding-house, 
a passage of wits between him and an excitable 
companion proved too much for the other's nerves: 
he made an insulting remark. Lanier promptly 
struck him. The young man lost his head com- 
pletely, pulled out a knife, and gave his adversary 



xii INTRODUCTION 

a bad cut in the back — the affair ending in a hearty 
reconciliation, with the knife-wielder nursing La- 
nier while he was laid up. In those days Southern 
boys had the old time idea of resenting affronts, but 
in spite of a naturally quick temper, this is the only 
personal difficulty related of Lanier's college days, 
and, with a group of devoted friends, he seems to 
have had no enemies. 

These years of hard study, reading, dreaming, 
music, serenading and college larks passed away. 
Lanier graduated at the head of his class, with an 
ambitious essay on "The Philosophy of History," 
dividing first honors with a fellow-senior, and on 
the day of his graduation was appointed tutor by 
the authorities. After a delightful summer of hunt- 
ing and fishing and friends and music at his grand- 
father's estate in the Tennessee Mountains, he took 
up his new duties. 

He was eighteen years old. The thoughtfulness 
which underlay his buoyant spirits is shown by a 
passage in his note-book at this time, when he was 
trying to decide upon his future: 

"The point I wish to settle is merely by what 
method shall I ascertain what I am fit for. I am 
more than all perplexed by this fact : that the prime 
inclination — that is, natural bent (which I have 
checked, though) of my nature is to music, and for 
that I have the greatest talent; indeed, not boasting, 
for God gave it me, I have an extraordinary musical 
talent, and feel it within me plainly that I could 
rise as high as any composer. But I cannot bring 
myself to believe that I was intended for a musician. 



INTRODUCTION xiii 

because it seems so small a business in comparison 
with other things, which, it seems to me, I might do. 
Question here: 'What is the province of music in 
the economy of the world?'" 

Sixty years ago, in Georgia, it would have been 
ludicrous to suggest music as a career for an ambi- 
tious young man. Lanier's look ahead presently 
resolved itself into a couple of years' hard study, 
mainly at Greek and German, while tutoring; then 
some more years in a German university; and then 
a professorship at an American college, where he 
might be able to work out some of his creative 
dreams, especially a musical drama of the peasant 
uprising in France in 1358, The Jacquerie, of which 
he had long been thinking (and a fragment of which 
is to be found in his complete Poems). He set 
himself resolutely towards this, and the next six 
months was a period of earnest study and teach- 
ing. His flute was still his ever present means of 
expression, and a friend of those days writes: 

"Lanier's passion for music asserted itself at 
every opportunity. His flute and guitar furnished 
recreation for himself and pleasant entertainment 
for the friends dropping in upon him. As a master 
of the flute he was said to be, even at eighteen, 
without an equal in Georgia. 'Tutor Lanier,' I 
find myself recording at the time, ' is the finest flute- 
player you or I ever saw. It is perfectly splendid 
— his playing. He is far famed for it. . . . De- 
scription is inadequate.'" 

This life of scholarship and music did not last 
long. The tension between North and South grew 



xiv INTRODUCTION 

to the breaking point in that fall of 1860. On 
December 1 South Carolina seceded. Georgia fol- 
lowed, January 16. There could be no question 
in the mind of a high-spirited boy when the call 
sounded: practically every teacher and student at 
Oglethorpe enlisted in the Confederate army, and 
Lanier joined the Macon Volunteers in the Second 
Georgia battalion at Norfolk, Va. 

II. A SOLDIER IN THE CIVIL WAR 

1861-1865 

It would be hard to imagine a human being more 
unfitted by nature to be a soldier. There was 
something in him that made it almost impossible 
for him to hate a fellow human being; his imagina- 
tion and sympathy were so quick that he had given 
up hunting after once watching a large-eyed deer 
stand motionless before him at close range; it was 
no exaggeration for him to speak as he did in fol- 
lowing years, of the "sisterly leaves," or "Cousin 
Cloud," for his heart seemed to vibrate in accord 
with all created things. But the very foundation 
of his character was a gallant buoyancy in meeting 
adequately whatever responsibility life set before 
him. In the face of convictions about war ex- 
pressed in his one novel. Tiger Lilies, and in the 
essay. The Devil's Bombs, he set himself to dis- 
charge his new duties with all his powers. 

During most of the first year the battalion was 
stationed near Norfolk, and Lanier's spare time was 
used in forming an orchestra of flutes, violins, 'cello. 



INTRODUCTION xv 

cornet and guitar, and in reading German and 
poetry. He enlisted again when the year's term 
of his company was up, was at the battle of Seven 
Pines, in the fighting around Richmond, and en- 
gaged in making entrenchments at Drewry's Bluff 
— with plenty of forced marches, weather hard- 
ships, and chills and fever. In the fall he and his 
brother were transferred to Major Milligan's bat- 
talion of signalmen, doing mounted scouting along 
the James River from Petersburg to within thirty- 
five miles of Norfolk. It was adventurous work, 
for the enemy was liable to swoop down on them at 
any moment. He wrote of this period: 

"Our life was as full of romance as heart could 
desire. We had flute and guitar, good horses, a 
beautiful country, splendid residences inhabited by 
friends who loved us, and plenty of hairbreadth 
'scapes from the roving bands of Federals who were 
continually visiting that Debatable Land." 

Knowledge of the Federal movements was 
gathered by observation of their ships through a 
telescope, and from a spy who came at midnight 
once or twice a week from Fortress Monroe; while 
out on the river after fish to reinforce their scanty 
table, the scouts were frequently chased by a gun- 
boat; their headquarters was shelled repeatedly; 
and among the skirmishes was one in April, 1864, 
when the little band held back a landing party ten 
times its size, and Lanier and his brother were 
mentioned in Major Milligan's despatches for 
"conspicuous gallantry." 

Companions of those days all testify to the dash, 



xvi INTRODUCTION 

resourcefulness, and gay disregard of hardships with 
which he met mishaps; how he would do double 
duty to relieve his younger brother, — and half carried 
him for hours one desperate night on a forced march 
through sleet and wind; how he refused promotion 
several times in order not to be separated from the 
latter; how the flute, which he managed to save al- 
ways, was a sure comforter for himself and others 
in the cold, wet, hungry, weary evenings; how he 
kept on studying, and ever planned for the writing 
he was already beginning to experiment with in the 
shape of tentative poems and notes for his Tiger 
Lilies. 

In 1864 he was appointed signal oflScer on the 
blockade-runner Lucy, at Wilmington. She was 
captured in October by the Federal cruiser Santiago- 
de-Cuba, on her first attempt to steal out of the 
harbor. His fellow officers, Englishmen, begged him 
to change his uniform and declare himself a British 
subject, to avoid imprisonment. He refused. Then 
the captain directed him to distribute the ship's 
money among the crew; and finding at the last mo- 
ment that one old sailor had been overlooked, he 
gave him most of his own scanty share. With the 
rest of the crew he was taken prisoner and sent to 
Point Lookout. 

A soldier's life in the field was paradise compared 
to those four months of horror in a military prison. 
Yet amid the darkness, filth, exposure, and despair, 
amid the recklessness of companions whose worst 
came out under the abandonment of hope, he again 
proved his mastery over any external conditions, 



INTRODUCTION xvii 

translating German songs, reading poetry, and cheer- 
ing his companions with his flute-playing. He got 
up concerts, with two or three other musical per- 
formers, for the benefit of the poorer prisoners. As 
one said afterwards: 

" The flute of Sidney Lanier was our daily delight. 
It was an angel imprisoned with us to cheer and con- 
sole us. Well I remember his improvisations, and 
how the young artist stood there in the twilight. . . . 

"In all those dreary months, under the keenest 
privations of life, exposed to the daily manifesta- 
tion of want and depravity, sickness and death, his 
was the clear-hearted, hopeful voice that sang what 
he uttered in after years." 

And Father Tabb, the poet, who was also a pris- 
oner there, wrote: "There was no room for pretence 
or disguise. Men appeared what they really were, 
noble or low-minded, pure or depraved; and there 
did one trait single him out. In all our intercourse, 
I can remember no conversation or word of his that 
an angel might not have uttered or listened to." 

In February he bought his release with some gold 
smuggled into prison in a friend's mouth. Emaci- 
ated and ill, he almost died on the voyage to Fortress 
IVIonroe. But a child friend who happened to be 
on the boat heard of his presence, and her mother 
obtained permission to care for him: 

"I can see his fellow prisoners now as they 
crouched and assisted to pass him along over their 
heads, for they were so packed that they could not 
make room to carry him through. . . . We got him 
into clean blankets, but at first he could not endure 



xviii INTRODUCTION 

the pain from the fire, he was so nearly frozen. We 
gave him some hot soup and more brandy, and he 
lay quiet till after midnight. Then he asked for his 
flute and began playing. As he played the first 
notes, you should have heard the yell of joy that 
came up from the shivering wretches down below, 
who knew that their comrade was alive." 

A few days later, carrying blanket, satchel, and 
his precious flute, he set out on foot for Georgia. A 
comrade of this painful journey says: 

"I recollect one morning that we came up to a 
farmer, who was hauling cotton to hide away from 
the enemy. We had a chat and asked for assistance 
along our journey, but this was refused. He, how- 
ever, asked us up to his house to get refreshment, 
and while there Sidney took out his flute and began 
playing. The music was very sweet indeed, and 
so charmed the farmer and his wife that he at once 
hitched up a team and sent us on towards Edgefield, 
S. C, where we met up with a few Georgia cavalry- 
men. Sidney knew one of them who loaned us a 
horse." 

They finally reached Augusta, and Lanier took 
the train to Macon, reaching home to go down into 
illness for two months. His brother returned from 
the war. His mother died. 

" Then peace came, and we looked about over the 
blankest world imaginable." 



INTRODUCTION xk 

III. LOOKING FOR A VOCATION 

1865-1873 

It took some courage for a young man in the South 
to face either the present or the future in 1865. 
The war had changed comfort or wealth into pov- 
erty. Four million slaves, suddenly freed, were 
without provisions, and without prospect of labor 
in a land where employers were impoverished. 
Forty thousand Confederate soldiers had been dis- 
banded after their terrible four years' struggle, at 
best to begin life over. Colleges, universities, and 
libraries were a thing of the past. The old govern- 
ments were gone, and the new military rule was 
still chaotic. Every American can be proud of the 
way in which the mass of these men set to work to 
build upon the ruins, 

Lanier's mind was full of poetry and music that 
clamored to be written down. But with his usual 
cheerful acceptance of life, he set about making a 
living in any way that offered. He tutored at a 
plantation near his home, thirty classes a day; he 
became clerk in a hotel in Montgomery, Ala,, de- 
scribing humorously to a friend the paralyzing dead- 
ness of business and of mental life; he buckled down 
to writing poems, essays, and his novel. Tiger 
Lilies, making a trip North in 18G7 to arrange for 
the publication of the latter. 

In December of that year he was married to Miss 
Mary Day, whom he had met in Macon during his 
stay there on furlough in 18G3; and that winter 



XX INTRODUCTION 

was spent as principal of an academy in Prattville, 
Ala., where drudgery and the first signs of his fatal 
disease, and the disheartening events of Recon- 
struction alike failed to keep him from his stud- 
ies in German and Latin literature, or from pouring 
out his thoughts in essays on current happenings 
and metaphysical ideas, as well as in occasional 
poems. 

Under his father's urging he went into the latter's 
law office late in 1868. Throwing his whole heart 
into the task, as usual, he was admitted to the bar, 
and for over three years he devoted himself to the 
intricacies of real estate titles, building and loan 
advances, trust estates, and other matters of legal 
principles and records. It was not work that would 
be chosen by a poet, musician and dreamer, long- 
ing for the field of scholarship and literature. But 
Chancellor Walter B, Hill, who joined the law firm 
later, declares: "I have had occasion to go over 
much work of that sort which he did, and I have 
been struck with its uniform correctness and care- 
fulness. I never saw deeds better drawn than his;" 
and the other members of the firm said that he in- 
troduced a system of order into the office which made 
it a different place. 

During these years Ul health drove him away 
several times for short changes of climate. Three 
trips of business and health, to New York, opened 
to him glimpses of a world toward which his deepest 
nature strained. He heard Nilsson sing, and 
Thomas's orchestra play the "Tannhauser" over- 
ture; and there kept growing in his mind a feeling 



INTRODUCTION xxi 

that only in these fields of music and poetry and 
study could he fulfil his true reason for existence. 

This belief, which was but the recognition of cre- 
ative powers demanding expression, deepened to 
conviction in 1873. Consumption, contracted at 
Point Lookout and fought against ever since, be- 
came so serious that he was forced to try a change 
to the dry air of Texas; and at San Antonio he was 
so near death that the facts of life ranged them- 
selves before him in unmistakable values. 

All the while, he had been keenly observing the 
new people and places about him, developing his 
Jacquerie by study of Michelet's France, read- 
ing and planning for a series of travel articles — 
one of which, on San Antonio, appears in his book, 
Retrospects and Prospects. His health presently 
improved under influences of the air and of a rigor- 
ously followed course of medical treatment. He ex- 
perienced the joy of a musical triumph, his flute 
solo before the Mannerchor producing a storm of 
applause amid which the leader, "an old man with 
long white beard and mustache," ran to him, grasped 
his hand and declared that he "hat never heert de 
flude accompany itself pefore ! " He wrote down 
one of the musical improvisations on nature themes 
with which he was wont to delight his friends, 
"Field-larks and Blackbirds." And when he re- 
turried to Macon in April his mind was made up. 

That September he set out for the North, with 
flute and pen as weapons. He was thirty-one years 
old; a wife and three children were to be provided 
for; his first efforts in literature offered little encour- 



xxii INTRODUCTION 

agement financially; his family and friends thought 
that in his state of health such a hazard of new for- 
tunes was folly. But he had faced all the facts and 
was sure. He writes his father from New York, 
November 29, 1873: 

" I have given your last letter the fullest and most 
careful consideration. After doing so, I feel sure 
that Macon is not the place for me. If you could 
taste the delicious crystalline air, and the cham- 
pagne breeze that I've just been rushing about in, 
I am equally sure that in point of climate you 
would agree with me that my chance for life is ten 
times as great here as in Macon. Then, as to busi- 
ness, why should I, nay, how can I, settle myself 
down to be a third-rate struggling lawyer for the 
balance of my little life as long as there is a cer- 
tainty almost absolute that I can do some other 
thing so much better ? Several persons, from whose 
judgment there can be no appeal, have told me, for 
instance, that I am the greatest flute-player in the 
world; and several others, of equally authoritative 
judgment, have given me an almost equal encour- 
agement to work with my pen. (Of course I pro- 
test against the necessity which makes me write 
such things about myself. I only do so because I 
so appreciate the love and tenderness which prompt 
you to desire me with you that I will make the full- 
est explanation possible of my course, out of the re- 
ciprocal honor and respect for the motives which lead 
you to think differently from me.) My dear father, 
think how for twenty years, through poverty, 
through pain, through weariness, through sickness, 



INTRODUCTION xxiii 

through the uncongenial atmosphere of a farcical 

college and of a bare army and then of an exacting 
business life, through all the discouragement of 
being wholly unacquainted with literary people and 
literary ways — I say, think how, in spite of all these 
depressing circumstances, and of a thousand more 
which I could enumerate, these two figures of music 
and poetry have steadily kept in my heart so that 
I could not banish them. Does it not seem to you 
as to me, that I begin to have the right to enroll 
myself among the devotees of these two sublime 
arts, after having followed them so long and so 
humbly, and through so much bitterness?" 

IV. WRITER, MUSICIAN, AND LECTURER 

1874-1881 

Lanier's undoubted musical genius won for him 
immediate recognition. On his way to New York 
he stopped in Baltimore and met Asger Hamerik, 
director of the Peabody Conservatory of Music. 
This distinguished leader and composer was so de- 
lighted with his playing of his own "Blackbirds" 
that he at once offered him the position of first flute 
in the new orchestra being formed at the Peabody, 
which position Lanier filled through this and suc- 
ceeding seasons. He told a friend that when he 
entered the orchestra he actually did not know the 
value of a dotted note; yet his musical instinct not 
only enabled him to hold his own with trained mu- 
sicians, but he was repeatedly assured by experts 
that he was the best sight reader they had ever met. 



xxiv INTRODUCTION 

He started to take lessons of the first flutist of 
Thomas's orchestra: after playing for this master, 
the latter complimented him, but told him he must 
get a Boehm flute and practise : " When you can do 
this, you'll pass," added the teacher, picking up 
his own instrument and executing some most diffi- 
cult pyrotechnics. Without a word Lanier repeated 
the passage on his eight-keyed flute. The veteran 
stood open-mouthed. "Here," said he, "give up 
that old thing and take this Boehm. Aside from 
correcting some errors, there is nothing I can teach 

you." 

Theodore Thomas arranged to offer him a place 
in his orchestra, a plan which failed because of 
Lanier's health at the time. Doctor Damrosch 
assured him he played his own "Wind Song" "like 
an artist," and that the performance was "wonder- 
ful" in view of his education. Director Hamerik 
said he had "not only the art of art, but an art 
above art," and afterwards wrote a striking picture 
of his triumph in a flute concerto with the Peabody 
orchestra. Whenever he played, with the orchestra, 
at church concerts, at the Germania Mannerchor, 
at private musicales, the story was the same. 

His success only stimulated him to fresh efforts. 
He practised and studied, beginning, as he writes, 
"in the midst of the stormy surges of the orchestra 
to feel my heart sure, my soul discriminating . . . 
presently my hand will be firm enough to hold the 
helm myself." He invented an improved long flute, 
which was about perfected when lack of strength 
and money forced him to stop pushing the obstinate 



INTRODUCTION xxv 

workman who was making the model. He delved 
into the physics of music, discovering a property of 
vibrating strings which helped to explain the differ- 
ence in tone-color between wind and stringed instru- 
ments. He was full of a plan for a new form of 
orchestra to tour the smaller cities and educate 
people musically; and looked forward to working 
with all his heart to advance the time when music 
should be considered one of the fundamentals of 
culture and religion to be studied in every college. 
(Here, as in many other things, he was merely 
ahead of his time.) His letters (in "Letters of 
Sidney Lanier" — "A Poet's Musical Impressions") 
and the essays collected under the title of "Music 
and Poetry" present some idea of the answer he 
himself finally gave to his boyish question: "What 
is the place of music in the economy of the world ? " 
And one of his most important prose works, The 
Science of English Verse, containing his theory that 
the laws of versification are simply special forms of 
the laws of music, could only have been written by 
one who had both felt music and studied it deeply. 
The same double artistic expression is, of course, 
shown most strikingly in one of his greatest poems, 
"The Symphony," where the essential character of 
each instrument in the orchestra is expressed in 
words with a subtlety rarely equalled. 

In February, 1875, Lippijicoti's Magazine pub- 
lished "Corn," which first brought him to general 
attention as a poet — though a number of short 
poems in the Round Table during 18G7 and 1868 had 
made a small circle of readers feel sure of his power. 



xxvi INTRODUCTION 

It was followed by the "Symphony," the cantata 
written for the opening of the Philadelphia Cen- 
tennial, and the enlarged hymn of America which 
grew from this cantata, "The Psalm of the West." 
(The last was to have music written by himself.) 
These three long poems and some shorter ones were 
gathered into a volume in the fall of 1876, and the 
young author found himself welcomed by Bayard 
Taylor and others of the best known authors and 
writers as one who had won his literary spurs. Mr. 
Gibson Peacock, editor of the Philadelphia Evening 
Bulletin, a man of great knowledge and culture, gave 
him the most generous recognition and furthered 
his interests in many ways. "Corn" brought him, 
in addition, the friendship of that rare woman, 
Charlotte Cushman. 

By the fall of 1877 he had also written a sort of 
inspired guide-book, Florida, a series of articles de- 
scriptive of India, created by his quick imagination 
from a prodigious amount of hard work in the li- 
braries, a number of other essays, and a dozen more 
poems, though he was forced to drop his orchestral 
work in the fall of 1876 and go to Florida and 
Georgia for six months, to keep alive. 

The following winter he was back in Baltimore 
with his family, re-enforcing his knowledge of Eliza- 
bethan poetry with systematic study of early and 
middle English literature at the Peabody library. He 
wrote enthusiastically to Bayard Taylor: "The world 
seems twice as large." The fruits of these new con- 
quests of his eager mind were given in lectures to 
private classes and at the Peabody Institute; and 



INTRODUCTION xxvii 

much of his material is embodied in the posthumous 
work, Shakspere and His Fore-runners. His en- 
thusiasm led him on from this to the design of what 
he called "Schools for Grown People," an idea 
since carried out in popular lectures. University ex- 
tension work, Chautauqua courses and a hundred 
other ways. It was years too soon for his plan, 
but his own power of making these things alive to 
his hearers gave a most stimulating quality to his 
talks. 

His success in this w^ork led to his appointment as 
lecturer in English literature at Johns Hopkins 
University, where more than one of the students 
has testified to the magic sympathy and enthusiasm 
with which he made the dry bones of the literary 
past take on form and beauty and freshness and 
meaning. Here too were delivered the dozen lec- 
tures on "The Development of Personality from 
yEschylus to George Eliot," afterwards published as 
The English Novel. 

Meanwhile he was writing "The Marshes of 
Glynn," "Sunrise," "The Crystal," "Individu- 
ality," "Owl Against Robin," and others of his 
greatest poems; editing the Boys' King Arthur, 
Froissart, Mabinogion, and Percy, planning buoy- 
antly for the volumes of poems which crowded his 
mind, for new literary enterprises ever suggested 
by his vital interest in life and books — though it 
was clear that he was rapidly approaching the limit 
of his allotted working time. 

In the spring of 1881 he went to the mountains 
of North Carolina for a final struggle with his old 



xxviii INTRODUCTION 

enemy. Up to the last he poured out his strength 
into the work at hand. And when in September 
the end came, he met it as he had met Hfe. 

The critics differ much as to Lanier's final rank 
as a poet. General appreciation of his work has 
steadily increased during the thirty-three years 
since his volume of collected poems was issued, 
and it seems at least settled that he belongs among 
the ten chief poets America has produced. 

To read a poem is more illuminating than to read 
a whole volume about it. Yet there are a few defi- 
nite characteristics worth noting. 

First of all, his poems always came from within. 
Whatever they are, they represent the surging feel- 
ing and true nature of the man, not a response to 
any external demand. As he himself said: "The 
difficulty with me is not to write poetry." 

He was a singer of America. And he followed his 
conviction that the poet must be a prophet, a seer, 
bringing to his fellows visions of their highest pos- 
sibilities. Though he had been a soldier in the 
Confederate Army, though his captivity in Point 
Lookout had fastened on him a physical ball-and- 
chain for the rest of his life, though the bitterness 
of Reconstruction still lay heavy on the South, 
Lanier could write in 1876 a dream of America 
and its future as lofty and confident as was ever 
penned. His "Psalm of the West" is a vision of 
the highest possibilities of freedom and true de- 
mocracy, the brotherhood of man, the ultimate 
"birth of faith from knowing and loving." He had 



INTRODUCTION xxix 

no doubts about the "tall young Adam of the 
West": 

" At heart let no one fear for thee : 

Thy Past sings ever Freedom's song, 
Thy Future's voice sounds wondrous free." 

The Jacquerie, too, which was in his mind, wait- 
ing a chance to be written, for most of his working 
life, enthralled him because it dealt with "the first 
time that the big hungers of the People appear in 
our modern civilization." The most poignant note 
of the "Symphony" is his cry for the poor: 

" Wedged by the pressure of Trade's hand 
Against an inward-opening door 
That pressure tightens evermore:" 

He was a passionate democrat. His ideal of democ- 
racy was simply that of Jesus Christ — the inevitable 
result of loving one's neighbor as one's self. He says, 
in a fervent passage, rejecting mere bigness as an 
object of pride: 

"A republic is the government of the spirit; a 
republic depends upon the self control of each mem- 
ber; you cannot make a republic out of muscles, 
and prairies, and Rocky JNIountains; republics are 
made of the spirit." 

He had an insatiable thirst for knowledge. His 
extraordinary sensitiveness to the delicate, half- 
hidden beauties of nature was never troubled for 
fear that all he could learn about trees, flowers, 
microscopic life, or meteorology might lessen the 



xxx INTRODUCTION 

mystery or charm. Every fact of nature, of science, 
of art was vital to him, was food for poetry, was 
building material for the palace of Truth which he 
conceived as the only adequate aim of the poet. 
For some thousands of years the sun has been 
"rising" in poets' pictures of dawn; but in Lanier's 
"Sunrise," 

" The wave-serrate sea-rim sinks unjarring, unreeling, 
Forever revealing, revealing, revealing." 

Surely there is but an increase of majesty in this 
adoption of one of the first facts of science. And 
the other stanzas in the same poem, hailing the sun 
as "Workman Heat" — 

"Parter of passionate atoms that travail to meet 
And be mixed in the death-cold oneness" — 

are almost unique in poetry in their use of the knowl- 
edge of energy and matter which modern scientists 
have built up. 

Over and over he sang the responsibility of the 
artist for his work, his belief that more, not less, 
should be demanded of the genius than of the ordi- 
nary man. And while he delighted in vigorous, 
red-blooded life, he not only upheld in all his work 
an ideal of cleanness and absolute purity as the 
most manly of qualities, but he lived his doctrine 
as few men have lived it. 

And finally, everything he wrote is transfused with 
a belief in the best of man's nature. "Every man 
is as good as his best," was one of his favorite say- 
ings. Everywhere there is humor, bravery, mag- 



INTRODUCTION xxxi 

nanimity, knightliness, hope, faith, love. For he 
saw God in everything — or where he could not see, 
he trusted. His vision of the end of humanity 
was ever that of 

" the CathoHc man who hath mightily won 
God out of knowledge and good out of infinite pain 
And sight out of blindness, and purity out of stain." 



SELECTIONS FROM SIDNEY LANIER 

POEMS 

THE TOURNAMENT 
Joust First 



Bright shone the Hsts, blue bent the skies, 
And the knights still hurried amain 

To the tournament under the ladies' eyes, 
Where the jousters were Heart and Brain. 

II 

Flourished the trumpets: entered Heart, 5 

A youth in crimson and gold. 
Flourished again: Brain stood apart. 

Steel-armored, dark and cold. 

Ill 

Heart's palfrey caracoled gayly round, 

Heart tra-li-ra'd merrily; lo 

But Brain sat still, with never a sound. 
So cynical-calm was he. 

IV 

Heart's helmet-crest bore favors three 
From his lady's white hand caught; 
1 



2 SELECTIONS FROM SIDNEY LANIER 

15 While Brain wore a plumeless casque; not he 
Or favor gave or sought. 



The herald blew; Heart shot a glance 

To find his lady's eye, 
But Brain gazed straight ahead his lance 
20 To aim more faithfully. 

VI 

They charged, they struck; both fell, both bled. 

Brain rose again, ungloved, 
Heart, dying, smiled and faintly said, 

"My love to my beloved !" 

Camp French, Wilmington, N. C, 
May, 1862. 



Joust Second 



A-many sweet eyes wept and wept, 

A-many bosoms heaved again ; 
A-many dainty dead hopes slept 

With yonder Heart-knight prone o' the plain. 

II 

Yet stars will burn through any mists. 
And the ladies' eyes, through rains of fate, 

Still beamed upon the bloody lists 
And lit the joust of Love and Hate. 



POEMS 



III 



strange ! or ere a trumpet blew, 

Or ere a challenge-word was given, lo 

A knight leapt down i' the lists; none knew 

Whether he sprang from earth or heaven. 



IV 



His cheek was soft as a lily-bud. 

His gray eyes calmed his youth's alarm; 

Nor helm nor hauberk nor even a hood 15 

Had he to shield his life from harm. 



No falchion from his baldric swung. 

He wore a white rose in its place. 
No dagger at his girdle hung, 

But only an olive-branch, for grace. 20 

VI 

And " Come, thou poor mistaken knight," 
Cried Love, unarmed, yet dauntless there, 
"Come on, God pity thee ! — I fight 

Sans sword, sans shield; yet. Hate, beware!" 

VII 

Spurred furious Hate; he foamed at mouth, 25 

His breath was hot upon the air, 
His breath scorched souls, as a dry drought 

Withers green trees and burns them bare. 



4 SELECTIONS FROM SIDNEY LANIER 

VIII 

Straight drives he at his enemy, 
30 His hairy hands grip lance in rest, 

His lance it gleams full bitterly, 

God ! — gleams, true-point, on Love's bare breast ! 

IX 

Love's gray eyes glow with a heaven-heat, 
Love lifts his hand in a saintly prayer; 
35 Look ! Hate hath fallen at his feet ! 

Look ! Hate hath vanished in the air ! 



Then all the throng looked kind on all; 

Eyes yearned, lips kissed, dumb souls were freed; 
Two magic maids' hands lifted a pall 
:40 And the dead knight. Heart, sprang on his steed. 

XI 

Then Love cried, " Break me his lance, each knight ! 

Ye shall fight for blood-athirst Fame no more !" 
And the knights all doffed their mailed might 

And dealt out dole on dole to the poor. 

XII 

46 Then dove-flights sanctified the plain. 

And hawk and sparrow shared a nest. 
And the great sea opened and swallowed Pain, 
And out of this water-grave floated Rest ! 

Macon, Ga., 1865. 



POEMS 



LIFE AND SONG 

" If life were caught by a clarionet, 

And a wild heart, throbbing in the reed, 
Should thrill its joy and trill its fret, 
And utter its heart in every deed, 

"Then would this breathing clarionet 6 

Type what the poet fain would be; 
For none o' the singers ever yet 
Has wholly Uved his minstrelsy, 

"Or clearly sung his true, true thought. 

Or utterly bodied forth his life, lo 

Or out of life and song has wrought 
The perfect one of man and wife; 

"Or lived and sung, that Life and Song 
Might each express the other's all. 
Careless if life or art were long 15 

Since both were one, to stand or fall: 

"So that the wonder struck the crowd. 
Who shouted it about the land : 
His song was only living aloud, 

His work, a singing with his hand /" 20 



1868. 



6 SELECTIONS FROM SIDNEY LANIER 

SONG FOR "THE JACQUERIE" 

I 

May the maiden, 

Violet-laden 
Out of the violet sea, 

Comes and hovers 
5 Over lovers, 

Over thee, Marie, and me. 

Over me and thee. 

Day the stately, 
Sunken lately 
10 Into the violet sea, 

Backward hovers 
Over lovers. 
Over thee, Marie, and me, 
Over me and thee. 

15 Night the holy. 

Sailing slowly 
Over the violet sea. 

Stars uncovers 

Over lovers, 
20 Stars for thee, Marie, and me, 

Stars for me and thee. 

Macon, Ga., 1868. 



POEMS 7 

SONG FOR "THE JACQUERIE" 

II 

The hound was cuffed, the hound was 

kicked, 
O' the ears was cropped, o' the tail was 
nicked, 
(All.) Oo-hoo-o, howled the hound. 

The hound into his kennel crept; 
He rarely wept, he never slept. s 

His mouth he always open kept 
Licking his bitter wound, 
The hound, 
(All.) U-lu-lo, howled the hound. 

A star upon his kennel shone lo 

That showed the hound a meat-bare bone. 
(All.) O hungry was the hound ! 

The hound had but a churlish wit. 
He seized the bone, he crunched, he bit. 
"An thou wert Master, I had slit 16 

Thy throat with a huge wound," 
Quo' hound. 
(All.) O, angry was the hound. 

The star in castle-window shone, 
The Master lay abed, alone. 20 

(-.4//,) Oh ho, why not? quo' hound. 

He leapt, he seized the throat, he tore 
The Master, head from neck, to floor, 



8 SELECTIONS FROM SIDNEY LANIER 

And rolled the head i' the kennel door, 
25 And fled and salved his wound, 

Good hound ! 
(All.) U-lu-lo, howled the hound. 

Macon, Ga., 1868. 



THAR'S MORE IN THE MAN THAN THAR 
IS IN THE LAND 

I KNOWED a man, which he lived in Jones, 
Which Jones is a county of red hills and stones. 
And he lived pretty much by gittin' of loans, 
And his mules was nuthin' but skin and bones, 
5 And his hogs was flat as his corn-bread pones. 
And he had 'bout a thousand acres o' land. 

This man — which his name it was also Jones — 

He swore that he'd leave them old red hills and 

stones 
Fur he couldn't make nuthin' but yallerish cotton, 
10 And little o' that, and his fences was rotten, 
And what little corn he had, hit was boughten 
And dinged ef a livin' was in the land. 

And the longer he swore the madder he got. 
And he riz and he walked to the stable lot, 
15 And he hollered to Tom to come thar and hitch 
Fur to emigrate somewhar whar land was rich. 
And to quit raisin' cock-burrs, thistles and sich. 
And a wastin' ther time on the cussed land. 



POEMS 9 

So him and Tom they hitched up the mules, 
Pertestin' that folks was mighty big fools 20 

That 'ud stay in Georgy ther lifetime out, 
Jest scratchin' a livin' when all of 'em mought 
Git places in Texas whar cotton would sprout 
By the time you could plant it in the land. 

And he driv by a house whar a man named Brown 25 

Was a livin', not fur from the edge o' town. 

And he bantered Brown fur to buy his place. 

And said that bein' as money was skace. 

And bein' as sheriffs was hard to face, 

Two dollars an acre would git the land. so 

They closed at a dollar and fifty cents. 

And Jones he bought him a waggin and tents, 

And loaded his corn, and his wimmin, and truck. 

And moved to Texas, which it tuck 

His entire pile, with the best of luck, 35 

To git thar and git him a little land. 

But Brown moved out on the old Jones' farm, 
And he rolled up his breeches and bared his arm, 
And he picked all the rocks from off'n the groun', 
And he rooted it up and he plowed it down, 40 

Then he sowed his corn and his wheat in the land. 

Five years glid by, and Brown one day 

(Which he'd got so fat that he wouldn't weigh). 

Was a settin' down, sorter lazily. 

To the bulliest dinner you ever see, 46 

When one o' the children jumped on his knee 

And says, " Yan's Jones, which you bought his land." 



10 SELECTIONS FROM SIDNEY LANIER 

And thar was Jones, standin' out at the fence, 
And he hadn't no waggin, nor mules, nor tents, 
50 Fur he had left Texas afoot and cum 
To Georgy to see if he couldn't git sum 
Employment, and he was a lookin' as hum- 
Ble as ef he had never owned any land. 

But Brown he axed him in, and he sot 
65 Him down to his vittles smokin' hot. 

And when he had filled hisself and the floor 
Brown looked at him sharp and riz and swore 
That, " whether men's land was rich or poor 
Thar was more in the man than thar was in the 
land." 

Macon, Ga., 1869. 



THE POWER OF PRAYER; OR, THE FIRST 
STEAMBOAT UP THE ALABAMA 

BY SIDNEY AND CLIFFORD LANIER 

You, Dinah ! Come and set me whar de ribber- 

roads does meet. 
De Lord, He made dese black-jack roots to twis' 

into a seat. 
Umph, dar ! De Lord have mussy on dis blin' ole 

nigger's feet. 

It 'pear to me dis mornin' I kin smell de fust o' 
June. 



POEMS 11 

I 'clar*, I b'lieve dat mockin'-bird could play de 
fiddle soon ! s 

Dem yonder town-bells sounds like dey was ringin' 
in de moon. 

Well, ef dis nigger is been blind for fo'ty year or mo', 
Dese ears, dey sees the world, like, th'u' de cracks 

dat's in de do'. 
For de Lord has built dis body wid de windows 'hind 

and 'fo.' 

I know my front ones is stopped up, and things is 
sort o' dim, lo 

But den, th'u' dem, temptation's rain won't leak in 
on ole Jim ! 

De back ones show me earth enough, aldo' dey's 
mons'ous slim. 

And as for Hebben, — bless de Lord, and praise His 

holy name — 
Dat shines in all de co'ners of dis cabin jes' de same 
As ef dat cabin hadn't nar' a plank upon de frame ! is 

Who call me ? Listen down de ribber, Dinah ! 

Don't you hyar 
Somebody holl'in' " Hoo, Jim, hoo" ? My Sarah 

died las' y'ar; 
Is dat black angel done come back to call ole Jim 

f 'om hyar ? 

My stars, dat cain't be Sarah, shuh! Jes' listen, 
Dinah, now ! 



12 SELECTIONS FROM SIDNEY LANIER 

20 What kin be comin' up dat bend, a-makin' sich a 

row? 
Fus' bellerin' like a pawin' bull, den squealin' like a 

sow? 
De Lord 'a' mussy sakes alive, jes' hear, — ^ker-woof, 

ker-woof — 
De Debbie's comin' round dat bend, he's comin' 

shuh enuff, 
A-splashin' up de water wid his tail and wid his 

hoof! 

25 I'se pow'ful skeered; but neversomeless I ain't 
gwine run away: 
I'm gwine to stand stiff-legged for de Lord dis 

blessed day. 
You screech, and swish de water, Satan ! I'se a 
gwine to pray. 

O hebbenly Marster, what thou wiliest, dat mus' be 

jes' so, 
And ef Thou hast bespoke de word, some nigger's 

bound to go. 
30 Den, Lord, please take ole Jim, and lef young 

Dinah hyar below ! 

'Scuse Dinah, 'scuse her, Marster; for she's sich a 

little chile, 
She hardly jes' begin to scramble up de homeyard 

stile. 
But dis ole traveller's feet been tired dis many a 

many a mile. 



POEMS 13 

I'se wufless as de rotten pole of las' year's fodder- 
stack. 

De rheumatiz done bit my bones; you hear 'em 
crack and crack ? 35 

I cain't sit down 'dout gruntin' like 'twas breakin' 
o' my back. 

What use de wheel, when hub and spokes is warped 

and split, and rotten ? 
What use dis dried-up cotton-stalk, when Life done 

picked my cotton ? 
I'se like a word dat somebody said, and den done 

been forgotten. 

But, Dinah ! Shuh dat gal jes' like dis little hick'ry 
tree, 4o 

De sap 's jes' risin in her; she do grow owdacious- 
lee — 

Lord, ef you 's clarin' de underbrush, don't cut her 
down, cut me ! 

I would not proud persume — but I'll boldly make 

reques' ; 
Sence Jacob had dat wrastlin'-match, I, too, gwine 

do my bes'; 
When Jacob got all underholt, de Lord he answered 

Yes ! 45 



And what for waste de vittles, now, and th'ow away 
de bread, 



14 SELECTIONS FROM SIDNEY LANIER 

Jes' for to strength dese idle hands to scratch dis 

ole bald head ? 
T'ink of de 'conomy, Marster, ef dis ole Jim was 

dead ! 

Stop; — ef I don't believe de Debbie's gone on up de 

stream ! 
60 Jes' now he squealed down dar; — hush; dat's a 

mighty weakly scream ! 
Yas, sir, he's gone, he's gone; — he snort way off, 

like in a dream ! 

glory hallelujah to de Lord dat reigns on high ! 
De Debbie's fai'ly skeered to def, he done gone 

flyin' by; 

1 know'd he couldn' stand dat pra'r, I felt my 

Marster nigh ! 

55 You, Dinah; ain't you 'shamed, now, dat you didn' 

trust to grace ? 
I heerd you thrashin' th'u' de bushes when he showed 

his face ! 
You fool, you think de Debbie couldn't beat you in 

a race ? 

I tell you, Dinah, jes' as shuh as you is standin' dar, 
When folks starts prayin', answer-angels drops 

down th'u' de a'r. 
60 Yas, Dinah, whar 'ould you be now, jes' 'ceptin' fur 

dat praW ? 

Baltimore, 1875. 



POEMS 15 



THE SYMPHONY 

"O Trade ! O Trade ! would thou wert dead 1 

The Time needs heart — 'tis tired of head : 

We're all for love," the violins said. 

"Of what avail the rigorous tale 

Of bill for coin and box for bale ? 6 

Grant thee, O Trade ! thine uttermost hope: 

Level red gold with blue sky-slope, 

And base it deep as devils grope: 

When all's done, what hast thou won 

Of the only sweet that's under the sun ? lo 

Ay, canst thou buy a single sigh 

Of true love's least, least ecstasy ? " 

Then, with a bridegroom's heart-beats trembling, 

All the mightier strings assembling 

Ranged them on the violins' side 15 

As when the bridegroom leads the bride, 

And, heart in voice, together cried: 

"Yea, what avail the endless tale 

Of gain by cunning and plus by sale ? 

Look up the land, look down the land, 20 

The poor, the poor, the poor, they stand 

Wedged by the pressing of Trade's hand 

Against an inward-opening door 

That pressure tightens evermore: 

They sigh a monstrous foul-air sigh 26 

For the outside leagues of liberty. 

Where Art, sweet lark, translates the sky 

Into a heavenly melody. 

'Each day, all day' (these poor folks say), 



16 SELECTIONS FROM SIDNEY LANIER 

30 ' In the same old year-long, drear-long way, 

We weave in the mills and heave in the kilns. 

We sieve mine-meshes under the hills, 

And thieve much gold from the Devil's bank tills, 

To relieve, O God, what manner of ills ? — 
35 The beasts, they hunger, and eat, and die; 

And so do we, and the world's a sty; 

Hush, fellow-swine : why nuzzle and cry ? 

Swinehood hath no remedy 

Say many men, and hasten by, 
40 Clamping the nose and blinking the eye. 

But who said once, in the lordly tone, 

Man shall not live by bread alone 

But all that cometh from the Throne? 
Hath God said so ? 
45 But Trade saith No : 

And the kilns and the curt-tongued mills say Go! 

There's plenty that can, if you can't : we know. 

Move out, if you think you're underpaid. 

The poor are prolific ; we're not afraid; 
50 Trade is trade.' " 

Thereat this passionate protesting 

Meekly changed, and softened till 

It sank to sad requesting 

And suggesting sadder still: 
65 "And oh, if men might some time see 

How piteous-false the poor decree 

That trade no more than trade must be I 

Does business mean. Die, you — live, If 

Then 'Trade is trade' but sings a lie: 
60 'Tis only war grown miserly. 

If business is battle, name it so: 



POEMS 17 

War-crimes less will shame it so, 

And widows less will blame it so. 

Alas, for the poor to have some part 

In yon sweet living lands of Art, 65 

Makes problem not for head, but heart. 

Vainly might Plato's brain revolve it: 

Plainly the heart of a child could solve it." 

And then, as when from words that seem but rude 

We pass to silent pain that sits abrood 70 

Back in our heart's great dark and solitude, 

So sank the strings to gentle throbbing 

Of long chords change-marked with sobbing — 

Motherly sobbing, not distinctlier heard 

Than half wing-openings of the sleeping bird, 75 

Some dream of danger to her young hath stirred. 

Then stirring and demurring ceased, and lo ! 

Every least ripple of the strings' song-flow 

Died to a level with each level bow 

And made a great chord tranquil-surfaced so, so 

As a brook beneath his curving bank doth go 

To linger in the sacred dark and green 

Where many boughs the still pool overlean 

And many leaves make shadow with their sheen. 

But presently ss 

A velvet flute-note fell down pleasantly 
Upon the bosom of that harmony, 
And sailed and sailed incessantly. 
As if a petal from a wild-rose blown 
Had fluttered down upon that pool of tone 90 

And boatwise dropped o' the convex side 
And floated down the glassy tide 



18 SELECTIONS FROM SIDNEY LANIER 

And clarified and glorified 

The solemn spaces where the shadows bide. 

95 From the warm concave of that fluted note 
Somewhat, half song, half odor, forth did float 
As if a rose might somehow be a throat: 
" When Nature from her far-off glen 
Flutes her soft messages to men, 

100 The flute can say them o'er again; 

Yea, Nature, singing sweet and lone, 
Breathes through life's strident polyphone '^ 
The flute-voice in the world of tone. 
Sweet friends, 

105 Man's love ascends 

To finer and diviner ends 
Than man's mere thought e'er comprehends. 
For I, e'en I, 
As here I lie, 
r 110 A petal on a harmony, 

Demand of Science whence and why 
Man's tender pain, man's inward cry, 
When he doth gaze on earth and sky ? 
I am not overbold : 

115 I hold 

Full powers from Nature manifold. 
I speak for each no-tongued tree 
That, spring by spring, doth nobler be. 
And dumbly and most wistfully 

120 His mighty prayerful arms outspreads 
Above men's oft-unheeding heads. 
And his big blessing downward sheds. 
I speak for all-shaped blooms and leaves, 
Lichens on stones and moss on eaves, 



POEMS 19 

Grasses and grains in ranks and sheaves; 125 

Broad-fronded ferns and keen-leaved canes, 

And briery mazes bounding lanes, 

And marsh-plants, thirsty-cupped for rains, 

And milky stems and sugary veins; 

For every long-armed woman-vine 130 

That round a piteous tree doth twine; 

For passionate odors, and divine 

Pistils, and petals crystalline; 

All purities of shady springs, 

All shynesses of film-winged things iss. 

That fly from tree-trunks and bark-rings; 

All modesties of mountain-fawns 

That leap to covert from wild lawns, 

And tremble if the day but dawns; 

All sparklings of small beady eyes 140 

Of birds, and sidelong glances wise 

Wherewith the jay hints tragedies; 

All piquancies of prickly burs, 

And smoothnesses of downs and furs 

Of eiders and of minevers; - 145 

All limpid honeys that do lie 

At stamen-bases, nor deny 

The humming-birds' fine roguery, 

Bee-thighs, nor any butterfly; 

All gracious curves of slender wings, 150 

Bark-mottlings, fibre-spiralings, 

Fern-wavings and leaf-flickerings; 

Each dial-marked leaf and flower-bell 

Wherewith in every lonesome dell 

Time to himself his hours doth tell; 1S5 

All tree-sounds, rustlings of pine-cones, 



20 SELECTIONS FROM SIDNEY LANIER 

Wind-sighings, doves' melodious moans. 
And night's unearthly under-tones; 
All placid lakes and waveless deeps, 

160 All cool reposing mountain-steeps, 

Vale-calms and tranquil lotos-sleeps; — 
Yea, all fair forms, and sounds, and lights. 
And warmths, and mysteries, and mights, 
Of Nature's utmost depths and heights, 

165 — ^These doth my timid tongue present, 
Their mouthpiece and leal instrument * 
And servant, all love-eloquent. 
I heard, when 'All for love' the vioUns cried: 
So, Nature calls through all her system wide, 

170 Give me thy love, man, so long denied. 

Much time is run, and man hath changed his ways. 
Since Nature, in the antique fable-days. 
Was hid from man's true love by proxy fays, 
False fauns and rascal gods that stole her praise. 

175 The nymphs, cold creatures of man's colder brain. 
Chilled Nature's streams till man's warm heart was 

fain 
Never to lave its love in them again. 
Later, a sweet Voice Love thy neighbor said; 
Then jBrst the bounds of neighborhood outspread 

180 Beyond all confines of old ethnic dread. 

Vainly the Jew might wag his covenant head : 
'All men are neighbors,' so the sweet Voice said. 
So, when man's arms had circled all man's race, 
The liberal compass of his warm embrace 

185 Stretched bigger yet in the dark bounds of space; 
With hands a-grope he felt smooth Nature's grace. 
Drew her to breast and kissed her sweetheart face : 



1 



POEMS 21 

Yea, man found neighbors in great hills and trees 
And streams and clouds and suns and birds and 

bees, 
And throbbed with neighbor-loves in loving these. i90 
But oh, the poor ! the poor ! the poor ! 
That stand by the inward-opening door 
Trade's hand doth tighten ever more, 
And sigh their monstrous foul-air sigh 
For the outside hills of liberty, 195 

Where Nature spreads her wild blue sky 
For Art to make into melody ! 
Thou Trade ! thou king of the modern days I 

Change thy ways, 

Change thy ways; 200 

Let the sweaty laborers file 

A little while, 

A little while, 
Where Art and Nature sing and smile. 
Trade ! is thy heart all dead, all dead ? 205 

And hast thou nothing but a head ? 
I'm all for heart," the flute-voice said, 
And into sudden silence fled, 
Like as a blush that while 'tis red 
Dies to a still, still white instead. 210 

Thereto a thrilling calm succeeds, 
Till presently the silence breeds 
A little breeze among the reeds 
That seems to blow by sea-marsh weeds: 
Then from the gentle stir and fret 215 

Sings out the melting clarionet, 
Like as a lady sings while yet 



22 SELECTIONS FROM SIDNEY LANIER 

Her eyes with salty tears are wet. 

"O Trade ! O Trade !" the Lady said, 
220 " I too will wish thee utterly dead 

If all thy heart is in thy head. 

For O my God ! and O my God ! 

What shameful ways have women trod 

At beckoning of Trade's golden rod I 
225 Alas when sighs are traders' lies, 

And heart's-ease eyes and violet eyes 
Are merchandise ! 

O purchased lips that kiss with pain ! 

cheeks coin-spotted with smirch and stain ! 
230 O trafficked hearts that break in twain ! 

— And yet what wonder at my sisters' crime? 
So hath Trade withered up Love's sinewy prime, 
Men love not women as in olden time. 
Ah, not in these cold merchantable days 

235 Deem men their life an opal gray, where plays 
The one red Sweet of gracious ladies'-praise. 
Now, comes a suitor with sharp prying eye — 
Says, Here, you Lady, if you'll sell, I'll buy : 
Come, heart for heart — a trade ? What ! iceeping^. 
why? 

240 Shame on such wooers' dapper mercery ! 

1 would my lover kneeling at my feet 

In humble manliness should cry, sweet ! 
I know not if thy heart my heart will greet : 
I ask not if thy love my love can meet : 
245 Whatever thy worshipful soft tongue shall say, 
Til kiss thine answer, he it yea or nay: 
I do but knoio I love thee, and I pray 
To be thy knight until my dying day. 



POEMS 23 

Woe him that cunning trades in hearts contrives ! 
Base love good women to base loving drives. 250 

If men loved larger, larger were our lives; 
And wooed they nobler, won they nobler wives." 

There thrust the bold straightforward horn 

To battle for that lady lorn, 

With heartsome voice of mellow scorn, 255 

Like any knight in knighthood's morn. 

"Now comfort thee," said he, 
"Fair Lady. 
For God shall right thy grievous wrong, 
And man shall sing thee a true-love song, 260 

Voiced in act his whole life long. 

Yea, all thy sweet life long. 
Fair Lady. 
Where's he that craftily hath said, 
The day of chivalry is dead ? 266 

ril prove that lie upon his head. 

Or I will die instead. 
Fair Lady. 
Is Honor gone into his grave ? 

Hath Faith become a caitiff knave, 270 

And Selfhood turned into a slave 

To work in Mammon's cave. 
Fair Lady ? 
Will Truth's long blade ne'er gleam again ? 
Hath Giant Trade in dungeons slain 276 

All great contempts of mean-got gain 

And hates of inward stain, 
Fair Lady ? 
For aye shall name and fame be sold, 



24 SELECTIONS FROM SIDNEY LANIER 

280 And place be hugged for the sake of gold. 
And smirch-robed Justice feebly scold 
At Crime all money-bold, 
Fair Lady ? 
Shall self-wrapt husbands aye forget 
285 Kiss-pardons for the daily fret 

Wherewith sweet wifely eyes are wet — 
Blind to lips kiss-wise set — 
Fair Lady ? 
Shall lovers higgle, heart for heart, 
290 Till wooing grows a trading mart 

Where much for little, and all for part, 
Make love a cheapening art. 
Fair Lady ? 
Shall woman scorch for a single sin 
295 That her betrayer may revel in. 
And she be burnt, and he but grin 
When that the flames begin. 
Fair Lady ? 
Shall ne'er prevail the woman's plea, 
300 We maids would far, far whiter be 
If that our eyes might sometimes see 
Men maids in purity, 
Fair Lady ? 
Shall Trade aye salve his conscience-aches 
305 With jibes at Chivalry's old mistakes — 
The wars that o'erhot knighthood makes 
For Christ's and ladies' sakes. 
Fair Lady ? 
Now by each knight that e'er hath prayed 
310 To fight like a man and love like a maid, 
Since Pembroke's life, as Pembroke's blade. 



POEMS 25 

r the scabbard, death, was laid. 
Fair Lady, 
I dare avouch my faith is bright 

That God doth right and God hath might, 3i6 

Nor time hath changed His hair to white, 
Nor His dear love to spite. 
Fair Lady. 
I doubt no doubts: I strive, and shrive my clay. 
And fight my fight in the patient modern way 320 

For true love and for thee — ah me ! and pray 
To be thy knight until my dying day, 
Fair Lady." 
Made end that knightly horn, and spurred away 
Into the thick of the melodious fray. 325 

And then the hautboy played and smiled, 
And sang like any large-eyed child. 
Cool-hearted and all undefiled. 

"Huge Trade!" he said, 
" Would thou wouldst lift me on thy head sao 

And run where'er my finger led ! 
Once said a Man — and wise was He — 
Never shall thou the heavens see, 
Save as a little child thou be." 

Then o'er sea-lashings of commingling tunes 335 

The ancient wise bassoons. 

Like weird 

Gray-beard 
Old harpers sitting on the high sea-dunes. 

Chanted runes: 340 

"Bright-waved gain, gray-waved loss. 
The sea of all doth lash and toss. 



26 SELECTIONS FROM SIDNEY LANIER 

One wave forward and one across: 
But now 'twas trough, now 'tis crest, 
345 And worst doth foam and flash to best. 
And curst to blest. 

Life ! Life ! thou sea-fugue, writ from east to west, 
Love, Love alone can pore 
On thy dissolving score 
350 Of harsh half-phrasings, 

Blotted ere writ, 
And double erasings 
Of chords most fit. 
Yea, Love, sole music-master blest, 
355 May read thy weltering palimpsest. 

To follow Time's dying melodies through, 
And never to lose the old in the new, 
And ever to solve the discords true— 
Love alone can do. 
360 And ever Love hears the poor-folks' crying. 
And ever Love hears the women's sighing. 
And ever sweet knighthood's death-defying, 
And ever wise childhood's deep implying, 
But never a trader's glozing and lying. 

365 And yet shall Love himself be heard, 

Though long deferred, though long deferred; 
O'er the modern waste a dove hath whirred : 
Music is Love in search of a word." 

Baltimore, 1875. 



POEMS 27 

THE DISCOVERY 

FROM "the psalm OF THE WEST" 

Santa Maria, well thou tremblest down the wave, 

Thy Pinta far abow, thy Nina nigh astern : 
Columbus stands in the night alone, and, passing 
grave, 
Yearns o'er the sea as tones o'er under-silence 
yearn. 
Heartens his heart as friend befriends his friend 
less brave, 
]\Iakes burn the faiths that cool, and cools the 
doubts that burn: — 



"Twixt this and dawn, three hours my soul will 
smite 
With prickly seconds, or less tolerably 
With dull-blade minutes flatwise slapping me. 
Wait, Heart ! Time moves. — Thou lithe young 

Western Night, lo 

Just-crowned king, slow riding to thy right, 
Would God that I might straddle mutiny 
Calm as thou sitt'st yon never-managed sea, 
Balk'st with his balking, fliest with his flight, 
Giv'st supple to his rearings and his falls, is 

Nor dropp'st one coronal star about thy brow 
Whilst ever daj^'ard thou art steadfast drawn ! 
Yea, would I rode these mad contentious brawls 
No damage taking from their If and How, 
Nor no result save galloping to my Dawn ! 20 



28 SELECTIONS FROM SIDNEY LANIER 

II 

"My Dawn? my Dawn? How if it never break? 
How if this West by other Wests is pieced, 
And these by vacant Wests on Wests increased — 
One Pain of Space, with hollow ache on ache 
25 Throbbing and ceasing not for Christ's own sake ? — 
Big perilous theorem, hard for king and priest: 
Pursue the West but long enough, 'tis East! 
Oh, if this watery world no turning take ! 
Oh, if for all my logic, all my dreams, 
.30 Provings of that which is by that which seems, 
Fears, hopes, chills, heats, hastes, patiences, 

droughts, tears, 
Wife-grievings, slights on love, embezzled years, 
Hates, treaties, scorns, uphftings, loss and gain, — 
This earth, no sphere, be all one sickening plane ! 

Ill 

35 " Or, haply, how if this contrarious West, 

That me by turns hath starved, by turns hath 

fed, 
Embraced, disgraced, beat back, solicited. 
Have no fixed heart of Law within his breast. 
Or with some different rhythm doth e'er contest 
40 Nature in the East ? Why, 'tis but three weeks 
fled 
I saw my Judas needle shake his head 
And flout the Pole that. East, he Lord confessed ! 
God ! if this West should own some other Pole, 
And with his tangled ways perplex my soul 
45 Until the maze grow mortal, and I die 



I 



POEMS 29 

Where distraught Nature clean hath gone astray. 
On earth some other wit than Time's at play, 
Some other God than mine above the sky I 

IV 

"Now speaks mine other heart with cheerier seem- 
ing: 
Ho, Admiral! o'er-defalking to thy crew so 

Against thyself, thyself far overfeiv 

To front yon multitudes of rebel scheming? 

Come, ye wild twenty years of heavenly dreaming! 
Come, ye wild weeks since first this canvas drew 
Out of vexed Palos ere the dawn was blue, 55 

O'er milky waves about the bows full-creaming ! 

Come set me round with many faithful spears 
Of confident remembrance — how I crushed 
Cat-lived rebellions, pitfalled treasons, hushed 

Scared husbands' heart-break cries on distant 
wives, 60 

Made cowards blush at whining for their lives. 

Watered my parching souls, and dried their tears. 



"Ere we Gomera cleared, a coward cried, 
Turn, turn: here he three caravels ahead. 
From Portugal, to- take us : we are dead! 65 

Hold Westward, pilot, calmly I replied. 
So when the last land down the horizon died. 
Go back, go back! they prayed: our hearts are 

lead. — 
Friends, we are hound into the West, I said. 



30 SELECTIONS FROM SIDNEY LANIER 

70 Then passed the wreck of a mast upon our side. 
See (so they wept) God's Warning! Admiral, 
turn! — 
Steersman, I said, hold straight into the West. 
Then down the night we saw the meteor burn. 
So do the very heavens in fire protest: 
76 Good Admiral, put about! Spain, dear Spain! — 
Hold straight into the West, I said again. 

VI 

"Next drive we o'er the shmy-weeded sea. 
^ Lo! herebeneath (another coward cries) 

The cursed land of sunk Atlantis lies: 
80 This slime will suck us down — turn while thouWt 
free! — 
But no! I said, Freedom bears West for me! 
Yet when the long-time stagnant winds arise. 
And day by day the keel to westward flies, 
My Good my people's III doth come to be: 
85 Ever the winds into the West do blow; 

Never a ship, once turned, might homeward go; 
Meanwhile we speed into the lonesomx main. 

For Christ's sake, parley. Admiral! Turn, before 
We sail outside all bounds of help from pain! — 
90 Our help is in the West, I said once more. 

VII 

\\ "So when there came a mighty cry of Land! 

And we clomb up and saw, and shouted strong 
Salve Regina! all the ropes along. 
But knew at morn how that a counterfeit band 



POEMS 31 

Of level clouds had aped a silver strand ; 95 

So when we heard the orchard-bird's small song, 
And all the people cried, A hellish throng 
To tempt us onward by the Devil planned, 
Yea, all from hell — keen heron, fresh green weeds, 
Pelican, tunny-fish, fair tapering reeds, 100 

Lie-telling lands that ever shine and die 
In clouds of nothing round the empty sky. 
Tired Admiral, get thee from this hell, and rest! — 
Steersman, I said, hold straight into the West. 

VIII 

" I marvel how mine eye, ranging the Night, 105 

From its big circling ever absently 
Returns, thou large low Star, to fix on thee. 
Maria! Star? No star: a Light, a Light! 
Wouldst leap ashore. Heart? Yonder burns — a 
Light. 
Pedro Gutierrez, wake ! come up to me. no 

I prithee stand and gaze about the sea: 
What seest? Admiral, like as land — a Light! 
Well ! Sanchez of Segovia, come and try : 
What seest? Adiniral, naught but sea and sky! 
Well ! But / saw It. Wait ! the Pinta's gun ! us 
Why, look, 'tis dawn, the land is clear : 'tis done ! 
Two dawns do break at once from Time's full 

hand — 
God's, East — mine, West: good friends, behold my 
Landl" 



32 SELECTIONS FROM SIDNEY LANIER 



EVENING SONG 

Look off, dear Love, across the sallow sands, 
And mark yon meeting of the sun and sea, 
How long they kiss in sight of all the lands. 
Ah ! longer, longer, we. 

6 Now in the sea's red vintage melts the sun. 
As Egypt's pearl dissolved in rosy wine, 
And Cleopatra night drinks all. 'Tis done. 
Love, lay thine hand in mine. 

Come forth, sweet stars, and comfort heaven's heart; 
10 Glimmer, ye waves, round else unlighted sands. 
night ! divorce our sun and sky apart. 
Never our lips, our hands. 

1876. 



SONG OF THE CHATTAHOOCHEE 

Out of the hills of Habersham, 
Down the valleys of Hall, 
I hurry amain to reach the plain. 
Run the rapid and leap the fall, 
5 Split at the rock and together again. 

Accept my bed, or narrow or wide, 
And flee from folly on every side 
With a lover's pain to attain the plain 
Far from the hills of Habersham, 
10 Far from the valleys of Hall. 



POEMS 33 

All down the hills of Habersham, 

All through the valleys of Hall, 
The rushes cried Abide, abide, 
The willful waterweeds held me thrall. 
The laving laurel turned my tide, 15 

The ferns and the fondling grass said Stay, 
The dewberry dipped for to work delay. 
And the little reeds sighed Abide, abide, 

Here in the hills of Habersham, 

Here in the valleys of Hall. 20 

High o'er the hills of Habersham, 

Veiling the valleys of Hall, 
The hickory told me manifold 
Fair tales of shade, the poplar tall 
Wrought me her shadowy self to hold, 25 

The chestnut, the oak, the walnut, the pine, 
Overleaning, with flickering meaning and sign, 
Said, Pass not, so cold, these manifold 

Deep shades of the hills of Habersham, 

These glades in the valleys of Hall. so 

And oft in the hills of Habersham, 

And oft in the valleys of Hall, 
The white quartz shone, and the smooth brook-stone 
Did bar me of passage with friendly brawl. 
And many a luminous jewel lone 35 

— Crystals clear or a-cloud with mist. 
Ruby, garnet and amethyst — 
Made lures with the lights of streaming stone 

In the clefts of the hills of Habersham, 

In the beds of the valleys of Hall. 40 



34 SELECTIONS FROM SIDNEY LANIER 

But oh, not the hills of Habersham, 
And oh, not the valleys of Hall 
Avail: I am fain for to water the plain. 
Downward the voices of Duty call — 
45 Downward, to toil and be mixed with the main, 
The dry fields burn, and the mills are to turn, 
And a myriad flowers mortally yearn, 
And the lordly main from beyond the plain 
Calls o'er the hills of Habersham, 
60 Calls through the valleys of Hall. 

1877. 



THE MOCKING BIRD 

Superb and sole, upon a plumed spray 
That o'er the general leafage boldly grew. 
He summ'd the woods in song; or typic drew 
The watch of hungry hawks, the lone dismay 

5 Of languid doves when long their lovers stray, 
And all birds' passion-plays that sprinkle dew 
At morn in brake or bosky avenue. 
Whate'er birds did or dreamed, this bird could say. 
Then down he shot, bounced airily along 

10 The sward, twitched in a grasshopper, made song 
Midflight, perched, prinked, and to his art again. 
Sweet Science, this large riddle read me plain : 
How may the death of that dull insect be 
The life of yon trim Shakspere on the tree ? 



POEMS 35 



TAMPA ROBINS 



The robin laughed in the orange-tree: 
" Ho, windy North, a fig for thee : 
While breasts are red and wings are bold 
And green trees wave us globes of gold, 
Time's scythe shall reap but bliss for me 6 

— ^Sunlight, song, and the orange-tree. 

Burn, golden globes in leafy sky, 

My orange-planets : crimson I 

Will shine and shoot among the spheres 

(Blithe meteor that no mortal fears) lo 

And thrid the heavenly orange-tree 

With orbits bright of minstrelsy. 

If that I hate wild winter's spite — 

The gibbet trees, the world in white, 

The sky but gray wind over a grave — 15 

Why should I ache, the season's slave? 

I'll sing from the top of the orange-tree 

Gramercy, winter's tyranny. 

I'll south with the sun, and keep my clime; 

My wing is king of the summer-time; 20 

My breast to the sun his torch shall hold ; 

And I'll call down through the green and gold 

Time, take thy scytlie, reap bliss for me, 

Bestir thee under the orange-tree." 

Tampa, Fla., 1877. 



36 SELECTIONS FROM SIDNEY LANIER 



THE REVENGE OF HAMISH 

It was three slim does and a ten-tined buck in the 
bracken lay; 
And all of a sudden the sinister smell of a man, 
Awaft on a wind-shift, wavered and ran 
Down the hill-side and sifted along through the 
bracken and passed that way. 

6 Then Nan got a-tremble at nostril; she was the 
daintiest doe; 
In the print of her velvet flank on the velvet fern 
She reared, and rounded her ears in turn. 
Then the buck leapt up, and his head as a king's to 
a crown did go 

Full high in the breeze, and he stood as if Death had 
the form of a deer; 
10 And the two slim does long lazily stretching arose, 
For their day-dream slowlier came to a close, 
Till they woke and were still, breath-bound with 
waiting and wonder and fear. 

Then Alan the huntsman sprang over the hillock, 
the hounds shot by. 
The does and the ten-tined buck made a mar- 
vellous bound, 
15 The hounds swept after with never a sound. 
But Alan loud winded his horn in sign that the 
quarry was nigh. 



POEMS 37 

For at dawn of that day proud Maclean of Lochbuy 
to the hunt had waxed wild, 
And he cursed at old Alan till Alan fared off 

with the hounds 
For to drive him the deer to the lower glen- 
grounds : 
"I will kill a red deer," quoth Maclean, "in the sight 
of the wife and the child." 20 

So gayly he paced with the wife and the child to his 
chosen stand; 
But he hurried tall Hamish the henchman ahead: 

"Go turn,"— 
Cried Maclean — "if the deer seek to cross to the 
burn. 
Do thou turn them to me : nor fail, lest thy back be 
red as thy hand." 

Now hard-fortuned Hamish, half blown of his breath 
with the height of the hill, 25 

Was white in the face when the ten-tined buck 

and the does 
Drew leaping to burn-ward; huskily rose 
His shouts, and his nether lip twitched, and his legs 
were o'er-weak for his will. 

So the deer darted lightly by Hamish and bounded 
away to the burn. 
But iNIaclean never bating his watch tarried wait- 
ing below 30 
Still Hamish hung heavy with fear for to go 
All the space of an hour; then he went, and his face 
was greenish and stern. 



38 SELECTIONS FROM SIDNEY LANIER 

And his eye sat back in the socket, and shrunken I 
the eyeballs shone, 
As withdrawn from a vision of deeds it were 
shame to see. 
35 "Now, now, grim henchman, what is't with thee? " 
Brake Maclean, and his wrath rose red as a beacon 
the wind hath upblown. 

"Three does and a ten-tined buck made out," spoke 
Hamish, full mild, 
"And I ran for to turn, but my breath it was 

blown, and they passed; 
I was weak, for ye called ere I broke me my fast." 
40 Cried Maclean: " Now a ten-tined buck in the sight 
of the wife and the child 

I had killed if the gluttonous kern had not wrought 
me a snail's own wrong ! " 
Then he sounded, and down came kinsmen and 

clansmen all: 
" Ten blows, for ten tine, on his back let fall. 
And reckon no stroke if the blood follow not at the 
bite of thong!" 

45 So Hamish made bare, and took him his strokes; at 
the last he smiled. 
"Now I'll to the burn," quoth Maclean, "for it 

still may be. 
If a slimmer-paunched henchman will hurry with 
me, 
I shall kill me the ten-tined buck for a gift to the 
wife and the child 1" 



POEMS 39 

Then the clansmen departed, by this path and that; 
and over the hill 
Sped Maclean with an outward wrath for an in- 
ward shame; so: 
And that place of the lashing full quiet became; 
And the wife and the child stood sad; and bloody- 
backed Hamish sat still. 

But look! red Hamish has risen; quick about and 
about turns he. 
"There is none betwixt me and the crag-top!" 

he screams under breath. 
Then, livid as Lazarus lately from death, 63 

He snatches the child from the mother, and clam- 
bers the crag toward the sea. 

Now the mother drops breath; she is dumb, and 
her heart goes dead for a space. 
Till the motherhood, mistress of death, shrieks, 

shrieks through the glen. 
And that place of the lashing is live with men. 
And Maclean, and the gillie that told him, dash up 
in a desperate race. eo 

Not a breath's time for asking; an eye-glance re- 
veals all the tale untold. 
They follow mad Hamish afar up the crag toward 

the sea, 
And the lady cries : " Clansmen, run for a fee ! — 
Yon castle and lands to the two first hands that 
shall hook him and hold 



40 SELECTIONS FROM SIDNEY LANIER 

65 Fast Hamish back from the brink ! " — and ever she 
flies up the steep, 
And the clansmen pant, and they sweat, and they 

jostle and strain. 
But, mother, 'tis vain; but, father, 'tis vain; 
Stern Hamish stands bold on the brink, and dangles 
the child o'er the deep. 

Now a faintness falls on the men that run, and they 
all stand still. 
70 And the wife prays Hamish as if he were God, on 
her knees. 
Crying: "Hamish! O Hamish! but please, but 
please 
For to spare him!" and Hamish still dangles the 
child, with a wavering will. 

On a sudden he turns; with a sea-hawk scream, 
and a gibe, and a song. 
Cries: "So; I will spare ye the child if, in sight 
of ye all, 
75 Ten blows on Maclean's bare back shall fall. 
And ye reckon no stroke if the blood follow not at 
the bite of the thong !" 

Then Maclean he set hardly his tooth to his lip 
that his tooth was red, 
Breathed short for a space, said: "Nay, but it 

never shall be ! 
Let me hurl off the damnable hound in the sea !" 
80 But the wife: "Can Hamish go fish us the child 
from the sea, if dead ? 



POEMS 41 

Say yea! — Let them lash me, Hamlsh?" — "Nay!" 
"Husband, the lashing will heal; 
But, oh, who will heal me the bonny sweet bairn 

in his grave ? 
Could ye cure me my heart with the death of a 
knave ? 
Quick ! Love ! I will bare thee — so — kneel ! " Then 
Maclean 'gan slowly to kneel 

With never a word, till presently downward he 
jerked to the earth. 85 

Then the henchman — he that smote Hamish — 

would tremble and lag; 
"Strike, hard!" quoth Hamish, full stern, from 
the crag; 
Then he struck him_, and "One !" sang Hamish, and 
danced with the child in his mirth. 

And no man spake beside Hamish; he counted each 
stroke with a song. 
When the last stroke fell, then he moved him a 

pace down the height, 90 

And he held forth the child in the heartaching 
sight 
Of the mother, and looked all pitiful grave, as re- 
penting a wrong. 

And there as the motherly arms stretched out with 
the thanksgiving prayer — 
And there as the mother crept up with a fearful 
swift pace, 



42 SELECTIONS FROM SIDNEY LANIER 

95 Till her finger nigh felt of the bairnie's face — 
In a flash fierce Hamish turned round and lifted the 
child in the air, 

And sprang with the child in his arms from the hor- 
rible height in the sea, 
Still screeching, "Revenge!" in the wind-rush; 

and pallid Maclean, 
Age-feeble with anger and impotent pain, 
100 Crawled up on the crag, and lay flat, and locked hold 
of dead roots of a tree — 

And gazed hungrily o'er, and the blood from his 
back drip-dripped in the brine. 
And a sea-hawk flung down a skeleton fish as he 

flew. 
And the mother stared white on the waste of 
blue. 
And the wind drove a cloud to seaward, and the sun 
began to shine. 

•Baltimobe, 1878. 



A SONG OF THE FUTURE 

Sail fast, sail fast 

Ark of my hopes. Ark of my dreams; 

Sweep lordly o'er the drowned Past, 

Fly glittering through the sun's strange beams; 

Sail fast, sail fast. 

Breaths of new buds from off some drying lea 

With news about the Future scent the sea: 



POEMS 43 

My brain is beating like the heart of Haste: 
I'll loose me a bird upon this Present waste; 

Go, trembling song, lo 

And stay not long; oh, stay not long: 
Thou'rt only a gray and sober dove, 
But thine eye is faith and thy wing is love. 

Baltimore, 1878. 
\/' 

THE MARSHES OF GLYNN 

Glooms of the live-oaks, beautiful-braided and 

woven 
With intricate shades of the vines that myriad- 
cloven 
Clamber the forks of the multiform boughs, — 
Emerald twilights, — 

Virginal shy lights, 5 

Wrought of the leaves to allure to the whisper of 

vows, 
When lovers pace timidly down through the green 

colonnades 
Of the dim sweet woods, of the dear dark woods, 

Of the heavenly woods and glades. 
That run to the radiant marginal sand-beach within lo 
The wide sea-marshes of Glynn; — 

Beautiful glooms, soft dusks in the noon-day fire, — 
Wildwood privacies, closets of lone desire. 
Chamber from chamber parted with wavering arras 
of leaves, — 



44 SELECTIONS FROM SIDNEY LANIER 

15 Cells for the passionate pleasure of prayer to the soul 

that grieves, 
Pure with a sense of the passing of saints through the 

wood, 
Cool for the dutiful weighing of ill with good; — 

O braided dusks of the oak and woven shades of the 

vine. 
While the riotous noon-day sun of the June-day long 
did shine 
20 Ye held me fast in your heart and I held you fast in 
mine; 
But now when the noon is no more, and riot is rest, 
And the sun is a-wait at the ponderous gate of the 

West, 
And the slant yellow beam down the wood-aisle doth 

seem 
Like a lane into heaven that leads from a dream, — 
25 Ay, now, when my soul all day hath drunken the 
soul of the oak, 
And my heart is at ease from men, and the weari- 
some sound of the stroke 
Of the scythe of time and the trowel of trade is 

low, 
And belief overmasters doubt, and I know that I 

know, 
And my spirit is grown to a lordly great compass 
within, 
30 That the length and the breadth and the sweep of 
the marshes of Glynn 
Will work me no fear like the fear they have wrought 
me of yore 



POEMS 45 

When length was fatigue, and when breadth was but 

bitterness sore, 
And when terror and shrinking and dreary unnam- 

able pain 
Drew over me out of the merciless miles of the 

plain, — 

Oh, now, unafraid, I am fain to face 35 

The vast sweet visage of space. 
To the edge of the wood I am drawn, I am drawn, 
Where the gray beach glimmering runs, as a belt of 
the dawn, 
For a mete and a mark 
To the forest-dark : — 40 

So: 
Affable live-oak, leaning low, — 
Thus — with your favor — soft, with a reverent hand, 
(Not lightly touching your person. Lord of the 

land !) 
Bending your beauty aside, with a step I stand 45 

On the firm-packed sand. 

Free 
By a world of marsh that borders a world of sea. 

Sinuous southward and sinuous northward the 

shimmering band 
Of the sand-beach fastens the fringe of the marsh 
to the folds of the land. 50 

Inward and outward to northward and southward 

the beach-lines linger and curl 
As a silver-wrought garment that clings to and fol- 
lows the firm sweet limbs of a girl. 



46 SELECTIONS FROM SIDNEY LANIER 

Vanishing, swerving, evermore curving again into 

sight, 
Softly the sand-beach wavers away to a dim gray 

looping of hght. 
55 And what if behind me to westward the wall of the 

woods stands high ? 
The world lies east: how ample, the marsh and the 

sea and the sky ! 
A league and a league of marsh-grass, waist-high, 

broad in the blade. 
Green, and all of a height, and unflecked with a light 

or a shade, 
Stretch leisurely off, in a pleasant plain, 
60 To the terminal blue of the main. 

Oh, what is abroad in the marsh and the terminal 

sea? 
Somehow my soul seems suddenly free 
From the weighing of fate and the sad discussion of 

sin. 
By the length and the breadth and the sweep of the 

marshes of Glynn. 

65 Ye marshes, how candid and simple and nothing- 
withholding and free 

Ye publish yourselves to the sky and offer your- 
selves to the sea ! 

Tolerant plains, that suffer the sea and the rains 
and the sun. 

Ye spread and span like the catholic man who hath 
mightily won 



POEMS 47 

God out of knowledge and good out of infinite pain 
And sight out of blindness and purity out of a stain. 7o 

As the marsh-hen secretly builds on the watery sod, 
Behold I will build me a nest on the greatness of 

God: 
I will fly in the greatness of God as the marsh-hen 

flies 
In the freedom that fills all the space 'twixt the 

marsh and the skies: 
By so many roots as the marsh-grass sends in the 

sod 76 

I will heartily lay me a-hold on the greatness of 

God: 
Oh, like to the greatness of God is the greatness 

within 
The range of the marshes, the liberal marshes of 

Glynn. ^ 

And the sea lends large, as the marsh: lo, out of his 

plenty the sea 
Pours fast: full soon the time of the flood-tide must 

be: 80 

Look how the grace of the sea doth go 
About and about through the intricate channels 

that flow 

Here and there. 

Everywhere, 
Till his waters have flooded the uttermost creeks 

and the low-lying lanes, 85 

And the marsh is meshed with a million veins, 



48 SELECTIONS FROM SIDNEY LANIER 

That like as with rosy and silvery essences flow 
In the rose-and-silver evening glow. 
Farewell, my lord Sun ! 
90 The creeks overflow: a thousand rivulets run 

'Twixt the roots of the sod ; the blades of the marsh- 
grass stir; 
Passeth a hurrying sound of wings that westward 

whirr; 
Passeth, and all is still; and the currents cease to 

run; 
And the sea and the marsh are one. 

95 How still the plains of the waters be I 
The tide is in his ecstasy. 
The tide is at his highest height: 
And it is night. 

And now from the Vast of the Lord will the waters 
of sleep 
100 Roll in on the souls of men. 

But who will reveal to our waking ken 

The forms that swim and the shapes that creep 

Under the waters of sleep ? 
And I would I could know what swimmeth below 
when the tide comes in 
105 On the length and the breadth of the marvellous 
marshes of Glynn. 

Baltimore, 1878. 



POEMS 49 



HOW LOVE LOOKED FOR HELL 

"To heal his heart of long-time pain 
One day Prince Love for to travel was fain 

With Ministers Mind and Sense. 
' Now what to thee most strange may be ? ' 
Quoth Mind and Sense. 'All things above, 5 

One curious thing I first would see — 

Hell,' quoth Love. 

"Then Mind rode in and Sense rode out: 
They searched the ways of man about. 

First frightfully groaneth Sense. lo 

"Tis here, 'tis here,' and spurreth in fear 
To the top of the hill that hangeth above 
And plucketh the Prince : ' Come, come, 'tis here — , 
' Where ? ' quoth Love — 

"'Not far, not far,' said shivering Sense is 

As they rode on. 'A short way hence, 

— But seventy paces hence : 
Look, King, dost see where suddenly 
This road doth dip from the height above ? 
Cold blew a mouldy wind by me' 20 

('Cold?' quoth Love) 

"'As I rode down, and the River was black. 
And yon-side, lo ! an endless wrack 

And rabble of souls,' sighed Sense, 
'Their eyes upturned and begged and burned 25 

In brimstone lakes, and a Hand above 



50 SELECTIONS FROM SIDNEY LANIER 

Beat back the hands that upward yearned — ' 
' Nay ! ' quoth Love — 

"'Yea, yea, sweet Prince; thyself shalt see, 
30 Wilt thou but down this slope with me; 
'Tis palpable,' whispered Sense. 
— At the foot of the hill a living rill 
Shone, and the lilies shone white above; 
'But now 'twas black, 'twas a river, this rill,' 
35 (' Black ? ' quoth Love) 

"'Ay, black, but lo ! the lilies grow. 
And yon-side where was woe, was woe, 

— Where the rabble of souls,' cried Sense, 
'Did shrivel and turn and beg and burn, 
40 Thrust back in the brimstone from above — 
Is banked of violet, rose, and fern : ' 
' How ? ' quoth Love : 

" ' For lakes of pain, yon pleasant plain 
Of woods and grass and yellow grain 
45 Doth ravish the soul and sense: 

And never a sigh beneath the sky. 
And folk that smile and gaze above — ' 
'But saw'st thou here, with thine own eye, 
Hell ? ' quoth Love. 

50 " * I saw true hell with mine own eye, 
True hell, or light hath told a lie. 

True, verily,' quoth stout Sense. 
Then Love rode round and searched the ground, j 
The caves below, the hills above; 



POEMS 51 

'But I cannot find where thou hast found 65 

Hell,' quoth Love. 

"There, while they stood in a green wood 
And marvelled still on 111 and Good, 

Came suddenly Minister Mind. 
'In the heart of sin doth hell begin: 60 

'Tis not below, 'tis not above, 
It lieth within, it lieth within : ' 

('Where?' quoth Love.) 

"'I saw a man sit by a corse; 
IlelVs in the murderer's breast: remorse! 65 

Thus clamored his mind to his mind: 
Not fleshly dole is the sinner's goal. 
Hell's not below, nor yet above, 
'Tis fixed in the ever-damned soul — * 

'Fixed?' quoth Love — 70 

"'Fixed: follow me, would 'st thou but see: 
He weepeth under yon willow tree. 

Fast chained to his corse,' quoth Mind. 
Full soon they passed, for they rode fast, 
Where the piteous willow bent above. 75 

'Now shall I see at last, at last, 

Hell,' quoth Love. 

"There when they came Mind suffered shame: 
'These be the same and not the same,' 

A-wondering whispered Mind. 80 

Lo, face by face two spirits pace 
Where the blissful willow waves above: 



52 SELECTIONS FROM SIDNEY LANIER 

One saith: 'Do me a friendly grace — ' 
C Grace ! ' quoth Love) 

85 " ' Read me two Dreams that Hnger long, 
Dim as returns of old-time song 
That flicker about the mind. 
I dreamed (how deep in mortal sleep !) 
I struck thee dead, then stood above, 
90 With tears that none but dreamers weep;' 
'Dreams,' quoth Love; 

" * In dreams, again, I plucked a flower 
That clung with pain and stung with power. 
Yea, nettled me, body and mind.' 
95 "Twas the nettle of sin, 'twas medicine; 
No need nor seed of it here Above; 
In dreams of hate true loves begin.' 
'True,' quoth Love. 

"'Now strange,' quoth Sense, and 'Strange,' quoth 
Mind, 
100 ' We saw it, and yet 'tis hard to find, 

— But we saw it,' quoth Sense and Mind. 
Stretched on the ground, beautiful-crowned 
Of the piteous willow that wreathed above, 
'But I cannot find where ye have found 
105 Hell,' quoth Love." 

Baltimobe, 1878-9. 



POEMS 53 

MARSH SONG— AT SUNSET 

Over the monstrous shambling sea, 

Over the Caliban sea, 
Bright Ariel-cloud, thou lingerest: 
Oh wait, oh wait, in the warm red West, — 

Thy Prospero I'll be. s 

Over the humped and fishy sea, 

Over the Caliban sea 
O cloud in the West, like a thought in the heart 
Of pardon, loose thy wing, and start. 

And do a grace for me. lo 

Over the huge and huddling sea, 

Over the Caliban sea, 
Bring hither my brother Antonio, — Man, — 
My injurer: night breaks the ban: 

Brother, I pardon thee. is 

Baltimore, 1879-80. 

OWL AGAINST ROBIN 

Frowning, the owl in the oak complained him 
Sore, that the song of the robin restrained him 
Wrongly of slumber, rudely of rest. 
" From the north, from the east, from the south and 

the west. 
Woodland, wheat-field, corn-field, clover, 6 

Over and over and over and over. 
Five o'clock, ten o'clock, twelve, or seven. 



54 SELECTIONS FROM SIDNEY LANIER 

Nothing but robin-songs heard under heaven: 
How can we sleep ? 

10 Peey! you whistle, and cheep ! cheep! cheep! 

Oh, peep, if you will, and buy, if 'tis cheap. 

And have done ; for an owl must sleep. 

Are ye singing for fame, and who shall be first ? 

Each day's the same, yet the last is worst, 
15 And the summer is cursed with the silly outburst 

Of idiot red-breasts peeping and cheeping 

By day, when all honest birds ought to be sleeping. 

Lord, what a din ! And so out of all reason. 

Have ye not heard that each thing hath its season ? 
20 Night is to work in, night is for play-time; 
Good heavens, not day-time ' 

A vulgar flaunt is the flaring day, 

The impudent, hot, unsparing day, 

That leaves not a stain nor a secret untold,— 

25 Day the reporter, — the gossip of old, — 
Deformity's tease, — man's common scold — 
Poh ! Shut the eyes, let the sense go numb 
When day down the eastern way has come. 
'Tis clear as the moon (by the argument drawn 

30 From Design) that the world should retire at dawn. 
Day kills. The leaf and the laborer breathe 
Death in the sun, the cities seethe. 
The mortal black marshes bubble with heat 
And puff up pestilence; nothing is sweet 

35 Has to do with the sun : even virtue will taint 
(Philosophers say) and manhood grow faint 
In the lands where the villainous sun has sway 



POEMS 55 

Through the livelong drag of the dreadful day. 
What Eden but noon-light stares it tame, 
Shadowless, brazen, forsaken of shame ? 40 

For the sun tells lies on the landscape, — now 
Reports me the what, unrelieved with the how, — 
As messengers lie, with the facts alone. 
Delivering the word and withholding the tone. 

But oh, the sweetness, and oh, the light 45 

Of the high-fastidious night ! 

Oh, to awake with the wise old stars — 

The cultured, the careful, the Chesterfield stars. 

That wink at the work-a-day fact of crime 

And shine so rich through the ruins of time 50 

That Baalbec is finer than London; oh, 

To sit on the bough that zigzags low 

By the woodland pool. 
And loudly laugh at man, the fool 
That vows to the vulgar sun; oh, rare, 55 

To wheel from the wood to the window where 
A day-worn sleeper is dreaming of care. 
And perch on the sill and straightly stare 
Through his visions; rare, to sail 
Aslant with the hill and a-curve with the vale, — eo 
To flit down the shadow-shot-with-gleam, 
Betwixt hanging leaves and starlit stream. 
Hither, thither, to and fro. 
Silent, aimless, dayless, slow 

(Aimless f Field-mice f True, they're slain, 65 

But the night-philosophy hoots at pain, 
Grips, eats quick, and drops the bones 
In the water beneath the bough, nor moans 



56 SELECTIONS FROM SIDNEY LANIER 

At the death Hfe feeds on). Robin, pray 
70 Come away, come away ^ 

To the cultus of night. Abandon the day. 

Have more to think and have less to say. 

And cannot you walk now ? Bah ! don't hop I 
Stop ! 
75 Look at the owl, scarce seen, scarce heard, 

O irritant, iterant, maddening bird ! " 

Baltimobe, 1880. 

A SONG OF LOVE 

"Hey, rose, just born 
Twin to a thorn; 
Was't so with you, O Love and Scorn ? 

"Sweet eyes that smiled, 
5 Now wet and wild; 

O Eye and Tear — mother and child. 

"Well: Love and Pain 
Be kinsfolk twain : 
Yet would. Oh would I could love again." 

A BALLAD OF TREES AND THE MASTER 

Into the woods my Master went, 
Clean forspent, forspent. 
Into the woods my Master came, 
Forspent with love and shame. 
5 But the olives they were not blind to Him, 

The little gray leaves were kind to Him: 



1 



POEMS 57 

The thorn-tree had a mind to Him 

When into the woods He came. 

Out of the woods my Master went, 

And He was well content. lo 

Out of the woods my Master came, 

Content with death and shame. 

When Death and Shame would woo Him last. 

From under the trees they drew Him last: 

'Twas on a tree they slew Him — last is 

When out of the woods He came. 

Baltimore, November, 1880. 

MARSH HYIVINS 

BETWEEN DAWN AND SUNRISE 

Were silver pink, and had a soul, 
Which soul were shy, which shyness might 

A visible influence be, and roll 
Through heaven and earth — 'twere thou, O light I 

rhapsody of the 'v\Taith of red, 6 

O blush but yet in prophecy, 
sun-hint that hath overspread 

Sky, marsh, my soul, and yonder sail. 

CONTROL 

,0 Hunger, Hunger, I will harness thee 
And make thee harrow all my spirit's glebe. 
Of old the blind bard Herve sang so sweet 
He made a wolf to plow his land. 



58 SELECTIONS FROM SIDNEY LANIER 



SUNRISE 

In my sleep I was fain of their fellowship, fain 

Of the live-oak, the marsh, and the main. 
The little green leaves would not let me alone in my 

sleep; 
Up-breathed from the marshes, a message of range 
and of sweep, 
5 Interwoven with waftures of wild sea-liberties, drift- 
ing, 
Came through the lapped leaves sifting, sifting, 
Came to the gates of sleep. 
Then my thoughts, in the dark of the dungeon-keep 
Of the Castle of Captives hid in the City of Sleep, 
10 Upstarted, by twos and by threes assembhng: 
The gates of sleep fell a-trembhng 
Like as the lips of a lady that forth falter yes, 
Shaken with happiness: 
The gates of sleep stood wide. 

15 I have waked, I have come, my beloved ! I might 
. not abide: 
I have come ere the dawn, O beloved, my live-oaks, 
to hide 

In your gospelling glooms, — to be 
As a lover in heaven, the marsh my marsh and the 
sea my sea. 

Tell me, sweet burly-bark'd, man-bodied Tree 
20 That mine arms in the dark are embracing, dost 
know 



POEMS 59 

From what fount are these tears at thy feet which 

flow? 
They rise not from reason, but deeper inconsequent 

deeps. 

Reason's not one that weeps. 

What logic of greeting hes 
Betwixt dear over-beautiful trees and the rain of 

the eyes? 25 

O cunning green leaves, little masters ! like as ye 

gloss 
All the dull-tissued dark with your luminous darks 

that emboss 
The vague blackness of night into pattern and plan, 
So, 
(But would I could know, but would I could 
know,) 30 

With your question embroid'ring the dark of the 

question of man, — 
So, with your silences purfling this silence of man 
While his cry to the dead for some knowledge is 
under the ban. 

Under the ban, — 
So, ye have wrought me 35 

Designs on the night of our knowledge, — yea, ye 
have taught me, 
So, 
That haply we know somewhat more than we 
know. 

Ye lispers, whisperers, singers in storms. 

Ye consciences murmuring faiths under forms, 40 



60 SELECTIONS FROM SIDNEY LANIER 

Ye ministers meet for each passion that 

grieves, 
Friendly, sisterly, sweetheart leaves. 
Oh, rain me down from your darks that contain me 
Wisdoms ye winnow from winds that pain me, — 
45 Sift down tremors of sweet-within-sweet 

That advise me of more than they bring, — repeat 
Me the woods-smell that swiftly but now brought 

breath 
From the heaven-side bank of the river of death, — 
Teach me the terms of silence, — preach me 
60 The passion of patience, — sift me, — impeach me, — 
And there, oh there 
As ye hang with your myriad palms upturned in the 
air. 

Pray me a myriad prayer. 

My gossip, the owl, — is it thou 
65 That out of the leaves of the low-hanging bough, 
As I pass to the beach, art stirred ? 
Dumb woods, have ye uttered a bird ? 



Reverend Marsh, low-couched along the sea, 
Old chemist, rapt in alchemy, 
60 Distilling silence, — lo. 

That which our father-age had died to know — 

The menstruum that dissolves all matter — thou 
Hast found it: for this silence, filling now 
The globed clarity of receiving space, 
65 This solves us all: man, matter, doubt, disgrace, 
Death, love, sin, sanity, 



POEMS 61 

Must in yon silence' clear solution lie. 

Too clear ! That crystal nothing who'll peruse ? 

The blackest night could bring us brighter news. 

Yet precious qualities of silence haunt 70 

Round these vast margins, ministrant. 

Oh, if thy soul's at latter gasp for space, 

With trying to breathe no bigger than thy race 

Just to be fellow'd, when that thou hast found 

No man with room, or grace enough of bound 75 

To entertain that New thou tell'st, thou art, — 

'Tis here, 'tis here thou canst unhand thy heart 

And breathe it free, and breathe it free, 

By rangy marsh, in lone sea-liberty. 

The tide's at full : the marsh with flooded streams so 

Glimmers, a limpid labyrinth of dreams. 

Each winding creek in grave entrancement lies 

A rhapsody of morning-stars. The skies 

Shine scant with one forked galaxy, — 

The marsh brags ten : looped on his breast they lie. ss 

Oh, what if a sound should be made ! 

Oh, what if a bound should be laid 

To this bow-and-string tension of beauty and si- 
lence a-spring, — 

To the bend of beauty the bow, or the hold of si- 
lence the string ! 

I fear me, I fear me yon dome of diaphanous gleam 90 

Will break as a bubble o'er-blown in a dream, — 

Yon dome of too-tenuous tissues of space and of 
night, 

Over-weighted with stars, over-freighted with light, 



I 



62 SELECTIONS FROM SIDNEY LANIER 

Over-sated with beauty and silence, will seem 
95 But a bubble that broke in a dream, 
If a bound of degree to this grace be laid, 
Or a sound or a motion made. 

But no : it is made : list ! somewhere, — mystery, i 
where ? 

In the leaves ? in the air ? 
100 In my heart? is a motion made; 

'Tis a motion of dawn, like a flicker of shade on 

shade. 
In the leaves 'tis palpable: low multitudinous stir- 
ring 
Up winds through the woods; the little ones, softly 

conferring. 
Have settled my lord's to be looked for; so: they 
are still; 
105 But the air and my heart and the earth are a-thrill, — 
And look where the wild duck sails round the bend 
of the river, — 
And look where a passionate shiver 
Expectant is bending the blades 
Of the marsh-grass in serial shimmers and shades, — 
110 And invisible wings, fast fleeting, fast fleeting, 
Are beating 
The dark overhead as my heart beats, — and steady 

and free 
Is the ebb-tide flowing from marsh to sea — 
(Run home, little streams, 
115 With your lapfulls of stars and dreams), — 

And a sailor unseen is hoisting a-peak. 
For list, down the inshore curve of the creek 



I 



POEMS 63 

How merrily flutters the sail, — 
And lo, in the East ! Will the East unveil ? 
The East is unveiled, the East hath confessed 120 

A flush: 'tis dead; 'tis alive: 'tis dead, ere the West 
Was aware of it; nay, 'tis abiding, 'tis un withdrawn: 
Have a care, sweet Heaven ! 'Tis Dawn. 

Now a dream of a flame through that dream of a 
flush is uprolled : 
To the zenith ascending, a dome of undazzling 

gold 125 

Is builded, in shape as a bee-hive, from out of the 

sea; 
The hive is of gold undazzling, but oh, the Bee, 

The star-fed Bee, the build-fire Bee, 

Of dazzling gold is the great Sun-Bee 
That shall flash from the hive-hole over the sea. iso 

Yet now the dew-drop, now the morning gray, 
Shall live their little lucid sober day 
Ere with the sun their souls exhale away. 
Now in each pettiest personal sphere of dew 
The summ'd morn shines complete as in the blue 135 
Big dew-drop of all heaven : with these lit shrines 
O'er-silvered to the farthest sea-confines. 
The sacramental marsh one pious plain 
Of worship lies. Peace to the ante-reign 
Of Mary Morning, blissful mother mild, 140 

Minded of nought but peace, and of a child. 

Not slower than Majesty moves, for a mean and a 
measure 



64 SELECTIONS FROM SIDNEY LANIER 

Of motion, — not faster than dateless Olympian lei- 
sure 
Might pace with unblown ample garments from 
pleasure to pleasure, — 
145 The wave-serrate sea-rim sinks unjarring, unreeling, 
Forever revealing, revealing, revealing, 
Edgewise, bladewise, halfwise, wholewise, — 'tis done I 

Good-morrow, lord Sun ! 
With several voice, with ascription one, 
150 The woods and the marsh and the sea and my soul 
Unto thee, whence the glittering stream of all mor- 
rows doth roll. 
Cry good and past-good and most heavenly mor- 
row, lord Sun. 

O Artisan born in the purple, — Workman Heat, — 
Parter of passionate atoms that travail to meet 

155 And be mixed in the death-cold oneness, — innermost 
Guest 
At the marriage of elements, — fellow of publicans, 

— blest 
King in the blouse of flame, that loiterest o'er 
The idle skies yet laborest fast evermore, — 
Thou, in the fine forge-thunder, thou, in the beat 

160 Of the heart of a man, thou Motive, — ^Laborer Heat: 
Yea, Artist, thou, of whose art yon sea's all news. 
With his inshore greens and manifold mid-sea blues. 
Pearl-glint, shell-tint, ancientest perfectest hues 
Ever shaming the maidens, — lily and rose 

165 Confess thee, and each mild flame that glows 

In the clarified virginal bosoms of stones that shine, 
It is thine, it is thine. 



POEMS 65 

Thou chemist of storms, whether driving the winds 

a-swirl 
Or a-flicker the subtiler essences polar that whirl 
In the magnet earth, — yea, thou with a storm for a 

heart, no 

Rent with debate, many-spotted with question, part 
From part oft sundered, yet ever a globed light, 
Yet ever the artist, ever more large and bright 
Than the eye of a man may avail of: — manifold 

One, 
I must pass from thy face, I must pass from the face 

of the Sun ; 175 

Old Want is awake and agog, every wrinkle a- 

f rown : 
The worker must pass to his work in the terrible 

town; 
But I fear not, nay, and I fear not the thing to be 

done; 
I am strong with the strength of my lord the 
Sun; 
How dark, how dark soever the race that must 

needs be run, iso 

I am lit with the Sun. 

Oh, never the mast-high run of the seas 

Of traffic shall hide thee, 
Never the hell-colored smoke of the factories 

Hide thee, i85 

Never the reek of the time's fen-politics 

Hide thee. 
And ever my heart through the night shall with 
knowledge abide thee. 



66 SELECTIONS FROM SIDNEY LANIER 

And ever by day shall my spirit, as one that hath 
tried thee, 
190 Labor, at leisure, in art, — till yonder beside thee 
My soul shall float, friend Sun, 
The day being done. 

Baltimore, December, 1880. 



POEM OUTLINES 

The courses of the wind, and the shifts thereof, 
as also what way the clouds go; and that which is 
happening a long way off; and the full face of the 
sun; and the bow of the Milky Way from end to 
end; as also the small, the life of the fiddler-crab, 5 
and the household of the marsh-hen; and, more, the 
translation of black ooze into green blade of marsh- 
grass, which is as if filth bred heaven: 

This a man seeth upon the marsh. 

("Hymns of the Marshes.") 

The Dyspeptic 

Frown, quoth my lord Stomach, 
And I lowered. 

Quarrel, quoth my lord Liver, 
And I lashed my wife and children, 
Till at the breakfast-table 5 

Hell sat laughing on the egg-cup. 
Lie awake all night, quoth my two Masters, 
And I tossed, and swore, and beat the pillow, 
And kicked with disgust, 

And slammed every door tight that leads to sleep 
and heaven. lo 

("Credo, and Other Poems.") 
67 



68 SELECTIONS FROM SIDNEY LANIER 

I fled in tears from the men's ungodly quarrel 
about God: I fled in tears to the woods, and laid 
me down on the earth; then somewhat like the 
beating of many hearts came up to me out of the 
6 ground, and I looked and my cheek lay close by a 
violet; then my heart took courage and I said: 

"I know that thou art the word of my God, dear 
Violet: 
And oh the ladder is not long that to my heaven 

leads. 
Measure what space a violet stands above the 
ground, 
10 'Tis no farther climbing that my soul and angels 
have to do than that." 

(Written on the fly-leaf of Emerson's "Representative 
Men," between 1874 and 1879.) 

A man does not reach any stature of manhood 
until like Moses he kills an Egyptian {i. e., murders 
some oppressive prejudice of the all-crushing Tyrant 
Society or Custom or Orthodoxy) and flies into the 
6 desert of his own soul, where among the rocks and 
sands, over which at any rate the sun rises clear 
each day, he slowly and with great agony settles 
his relation with men and manners and powers out- 
side, and begins to look with his own eyes, and first 
10 knows the unspeakable joy of the outcast's kiss 
upon the hand of sweet naked Truth. 

But let not the young man go to killing his 
Egyptian too soon: wait till you know all the 
Egyptians can teach you: wait till you are master 



POEM OUTLINES 69 

of the technics of the time; then grave, and resolute, is 
and aware of consequences, shape your course. 

I am but a small-winged bird: 
But I will conquer the big world 

As the bee-martin beats the crow, 
By attacking it always from Above. 

The United States in two hundred years has 
made Emerson out of a witch-burner. 

A Poet is a perpetual Adam: events pass before 
him, like the animals in the creation, and he names 
them. 

Birth is but a folding of our wings. 

It is always sunrise and always sunset somewhere 
on the earth. And so, with a silver sunrise before 
him and a golden sunset behind him, the Royal Sun 
fares through Heaven, like a king with a herald and 
a retinue. 

Hunger and a whip: with these we tame wnld 
beasts. So, to tame us, God continually keeps our 
hearts hungry for love, and continually lashes our 
souls with the thongs of relentless circumstances. 

Our beliefs needed pruning, that they might 
bring forth more fruit: and so Science came. 



1 



PROSE 

THE WAR-FLOWER 

FROM "tiger lilies" 

"Thou shalt not kill." 
"Love your enemies." 

"Father, forgive them: they know not what they 
do." — Christ. 

The early spring of 1861 brought to bloom, be- 
sides innumerable violets and jessamines, a strange, 
enormous, and terrible flower. 
This was the blood-red flower of war, which grows 
5 amid thunders; a flower whose freshening dews are 
blood and hot tears, whose shadow chills a land, 
whose odors strangle a people, whose giant petals 
droop downward, and whose roots are in hell. 
It is a species of the great genus, sin-flower, 
10 which is so conspicuous in the flora of all ages and 
all countries, and whose multifarious leafage and 
fruitage so far overgrow a land that the violet, or 
love-genus, has often small chance to show its quiet 
blue. 
16 The cultivation of this plant is an expensive busi- 
ness, and it is a wonder, from this fact alone, that 
there should be so many fanciers of it. A most pro- 
fuse and perpetual manuring with human bones is 

70 



PROSE 71 

absolutely necessary to keep it alive, and it is well 
to have these powdered, which can be easily done 20 
by hoofs of cavalry-horses and artillery-wheels, not 
to speak of the usual method of mashing with 
cannon-balls. It will not grow, either, except in 
some wet place near a stream of human blood; and 
you must be active in collecting your widows' tears 25 
and orphans' tears and mothers' tears to freshen 
the petals with in the mornings. 

It requires assiduous working; and your labor- 
hire will be a large item in the expense, not to speak 
of the amount disbursed in preserving the human 30 
bones alive until such time as they may be needed, 
for, I forgot to mention, they must be fresh, and 
young, and newly-killed. 

It is, however, a hardy plant, and may be grown 
in any climate, from snowy Moscow to hot India. ^5 

It blooms usually in the spring, continuing to 
flower all summer until the winter rains set in: yet 
in some instances it has been known to remain in 
full bloom during a whole inclement winter, as was 
shown in a fine specimen which I saw the other 40 
day, grown in North America by two wealthy 
landed proprietors, who combined all their re- 
sources of money, of blood, of bones, of tears, of 
sulphur and what not, to make this the grandest 
specimen of modern horticulture, and whose success 45 
was evidenced by the pertinacious blossoms which 
the plant sent forth even amid the hostile rigors of 
snow and ice and furious storms. It is supposed 
by some that seed of this American specimen (now 
dead) yet remain in the land; but as for this author so 



72 SELECTIONS FROM SIDNEY LANIER 

(who, with many friends, suffered from the un- 
healthy odors of the plant), he could find it in his 
heart to wish fervently that these seed, if there be 
verily any, might perish in the germ, utterly out 

65 of sight and life and memory and out of the re- 
mote hope of resurrection, forever and ever, no 
matter in whose granary they are cherished I 
But» to return. 
It is a spreading plant, like the banyan, and con- 

60 tinUes to insert new branch-roots into the ground, 
so as sometimes to overspread a whole continent. 
Its black-shadowed jungles afford fine cover for 
such wild beasts as frauds and corruptions and 
thefts to make their lair in; from which, often, 

65 these issue with ravening teeth and prey upon the 
very folk that have planted and tended and raised 
their flowery homes ! 

Now, from time to time, there have appeared cer- 
tain individuals (wishing, it may be, to disseminate 

70 and make profit upon other descriptions of plants) 
who have protested against the use of this war- 
flower. 

Its users, many of whom are surely excellent men, 
contend that they grow it to protect themselves 

75 from oppressive hailstorms, which destroy their 
houses and crops. 

But some say the plant itself is worse than any 
hailstorm; that its shades are damp and its odors 
unhealthy, and that it spreads so rapidly as to kill 

80 out and uproot all corn and wheat and cotton 
crops. Which the plant-users admit; but rejoin 
that it is cowardly to allow hailstorms to fall with 



PROSE 73 

impunity, and that manhood demands a struggle 
against them of some sort. 

But the others reply, fortitude is more manly 85 
than bravery, for noble and long endurance wins 
the shining love of God; whereas brilliant bravery 
is momentary, is easy to the enthusiastic, and only 
dazzles the admiration of the weak-eyed since it is 
as often shown on one side as the other. 90 

But then, lastly, the good war-flower cultivators 
say, our preachers recommend the use of this plant, 
and help us mightily to raise it in resistance to the 
hailstorms. 

And reply, lastly, the interested other-flower 95 
men, that the preachers should preach Christ; that 
Christ was worse hailed upon than anybody, before 
or since; that he always refused to protect him- 
self, though fully able to do it, by any war-banyan; 
and that he did upon all occasions, not only discour- 100 
age the resort to this measure, but did inveigh 
against it more earnestly than any thing else, as 
the highest and heaviest crime against Love — the 
Father of Adam, Christ, and all of us. 

Friends and horticulturists, cry these men, stick- 105 
ling for the last word, if war was ever right, then 
Christ was always wrong; and war-flowers and the 
vine of Christ grow different ways, insomuch that 
no man may grow with both ! 

But these sentiments, even if anybody could have no 
been found patient enough to listen to them, would 
have been called sentimentalities, or worse, in the 
spring of 1861, by the inhabitants of any of those 



74 SELECTIONS FROM SIDNEY LANIER 

States lying between Maryland and Mexico. An 

115 afflatus of war was breathed upon us. Like a great 
wind, it drew on and blew upon men, women, and 
children. Its sound mingled with the solemnity 
of the church-organs and arose with the earnest 
words of preachers praying for guidance in the 

120 matter. It sighed in the half-breathed words of 
sweethearts conditioning impatient lovers with war- 
services. It thundered splendidly in the impassioned 
appeals of orators to the people. It whistled through 
the streets, it stole in to the firesides, it clinked 

125 glasses in bar-rooms, it lifted the gray hairs of our 

wise men in conventions, it thrilled through the 

lectures in college halls, it rustled the thumbed 

book-leaves of the school-rooms. 

This wind blew upon all the vanes of all the 

130 churches of the country, and turned them one way — 
toward war. It blew, and shook out, as if by magic, 
a flag whose device was unknown to soldier or 
sailor before, but whose every flap and flutter made 
the blood bound in our veins. 

135 Who could have resisted the fair anticipations 
which the new war-idea brought? It arrayed the 
sanctity of a righteous cause in the brilliant trap- 
pings of military display; pleasing, so, the devout 
and the flippant which in various proportions are 

140 mixed elements in all men. It challenged the pa- 
triotism of the sober citizen, while it inflamed the 
dream of the statesman, ambitious for his country 
or for himself. It offered test to all allegiances and 
loyalties; of church, of state; of private loves, of 

145 public devotion; of personal consanguinity; of 



PROSE 75 

social ties. To obscurity it held out eminence; to 
poverty, wealth; to greed, a gorged maw; to specu- 
lation, legalized gambling; to patriotism, a country; 
to statesmanship, a government; to virtue, purity; 
and to love, what all love most desires — a field iso 
wherein to assert itself by action. 

The author devoutly wishes that some one else 
had said what is here to be spoken — and said it 
better. That is: if there was guilt in any, there 
was guilt in nigh all of us, between Maryland and 155 
IVIexico; that Mr. Davis, if he be termed the ring- 
leader of the rebellion, was so not by virtue of any 
instigating act of his, but purely by the unanimous 
will and appointment of the Southern people; and 
that the hearts of the Southern people bleed to see 160 
how their own act has resulted in the chaining of 
Mr. Davis, who was as innocent as they, and in 
the pardon of those who were as guilty as he ! 

All of us, if any of us, either for pardon or for 
punishment: this is fair, and we are willing. i65 



76 SELECTIONS FROM SIDNEY LANIER 
THE CHARGE OF CAIN SMALLIN 

FROM "tiger lilies" 

Prince Henry : " I have procured thee, Jack, a charge 
of foot." 

Falstaff : " I would it had been of horse. Well, God 
be thanked for these rebels." 

— King Henry IV. 

On one of the last days of April, '64, six soldiers 
in gray, upon six horses in all colors, were riding 
down the road that leads from Surrey Court House 
toward the beautiful bay into which the James 

5 spreads itself before it is called Hampton Roads. 
It was yet early in the morning. The sun was 
rejoicing with a majestic tenderness over his little 
firstling — April. 

Our six horsemen were in gay conversation; as 

10 who would not be, with a light rifle on his shoulder, 
with a good horse bounding along under him, with 
a fresh breeze that had in it the vigor of the salt 
sea and the caressing sweetness of the spring blow- 
ing upon him, with five friends tried in the tempest 

15 of war as well as by the sterner test of the calm as- 
sociation of inactive camp-life, and with the world's 
width about him and the enchanting vagueness of 
life yet to be lived — the delicious change-prospect 
of futurity — before him? 

20 As they rode on, the beauty of the woods grew, 
nearing the river. The road wound about deep 
glens filled with ancient beeches and oaks, and 
carpeted with early flowers and heart-leaves upon 



PROSE 77 

which still dwelt large bulbs of dew, so enchanted 
with their night's resting-place that they slept late, 25 
loth to expand into vapor and go back home in the 
clouds. 

Lieutenant Flemington spurred his horse forward 
and turned him round full-face to the party. 

"Gentlemen, there's some mistake about all so 
this!" said he, as the men stopped, laughing at a 
puzzled expression which overspread his face: "for 
whereas, this honorable company of six has been 
for three years or more toilsomely marching on foot 
with an infantry regiment — but now rides good 35 
horses: and whereas, this honorable company of 
six has been for three years feeding upon hard- 
tack and bacon which grew continually harder and 
also less and wormier — but now devours Virginia 
biscuit and spring-chickens and ham and eggs and 40 
— and all the other things that came on, and went 
off, the table at mine host's of the Court House 
this morning:" — 

"Not to speak of the mint-juleps that the big 
man-slave brought in on a waiter before we got out 45 
o' bed," interposed Briggs. 

"And whereas, we have hitherto had to fight 
through a press of from two to five hundred men to 
fill our canteens when we marched by a well — but 
now do take our several gentlemanly ease and 50 
leisure in doing that same, as just now when the 
pretty girl smiled at us in the big white house 
yonder, where we 

'Went to the well to get some water;* 



78 SELECTIONS FROM SIDNEY LANIER 

55 and whereas, we have hitherto draggled along in 
pantaloons that we could put on a dozen ways by 
as many holes, have worn coats that afforded no 
protection to anything but the insects congregated 
in the seams of the same, have had shirts that — 

60 shirts that — that — at any rate we have had shirts 
— but now do fare forth prankt in all manner of 
gorgeous array such as gray jackets with fillimagree 
on the sleeves of 'em, and hussar-breeches, and 
cavalry-boots, and O shade of Jones of Georgia ! i 

65 with spurs to boot and clean white collars to neck: 
and whereas, we have been accustomed to think a 
mud-hole a luxury in the way of beds, and have 
been wont to beg Heaven, as its greatest boon to 
man, not to let the cavalry ride over us without 

70 waking us up to see 'em do it — but now do sleep 
between white sheets without fear of aught but 
losing our senses from sleeping so intensely: and 
whereas, finally, all these things are contrary to the 
ordinary course of nature and are not known save 

75 as dim recollections of a previous state of existence 
in itself extremely hypothetical, therefore, be it re- 
solved and it is hereby resolved" — 
"Unanimously," from the five. 
"That this — figure — at present on this horse and 

80 clothed with these sumptuous paraphernalia of pom- 
pous war, is not B. Chauncey Flemington, that 
is to say (to borrow a term from the German met- 
aphysics) is Not-Me, that this horse is not my 
horse, this paraphernalia not my paraphernalia, 

85 that para-ditto not your para-ditto, that this road 
is no road, and the whole affair a dream or phantas- 



PROSE 79 

magory sent of the Devil for no purpose but to em- 
bitter the waking from it, and 

"Resolved, further, that we now proceed to wake 
up, and exorcise this devil. Cain Smallin, of the 90 
bony fingers, will you do me the favor to seize hold 
of my left ear and twist it? Hard, if you please, 
Mr. Smallin!" 

Cain seized and twisted: whereat went up a 
villainous screech from the twistee. 95 

"Mark you, men, how hard the Devil clings to 
him!" quoth Briggs. 

"Herr Von Hardenberg says, 'when we dream 
that we dream, we are near awaking,'" said Rii- 
betsahl, "but I am not awake and I surely dream loo 
that I do dream !" 

"I remember," said Aubrey, "that Hans Dietrich 
did dream, upon a time, that the elf-people show- 
ered gold upon him, but woke in the morning and 
found his breeches-pockets full of yellow leaves. A 105 
fortiori, this in my canteen, which I dimly dream 
was poured in there for home-made wine by an old 
lady who stopped me and blessed me the other 
side the Court House this morning — this, I say, in 
my canteen, should now be no wine, or at least, if 110 
these present events be a dream, should be sour 
wine. I will resolve me of this doubt!" 

The canteen rose in air, its round mouth met 
Aubrey's round mouth, and a gurgling noise was 
heard; what time the five awaited in breathless 115 
suspense the result of the experiment. The gurgling 
continued. 

" I think Mister Aubrey must ha' fell into another 



80 SELECTIONS FROM SIDNEY LANIER 

dream, like," quoth Cain Smallin, "an's done for- 
120 got he's drinkin' an' the rest of us is dry !" 

"Ah-h-h-h!" observed Aubrey as the canteen at 
last came down, " Gentlemen, this is as marvellous 
like to good wine of the blackberry as is one blue- 
coat to another. Albeit this be but a thin and 
125 harmful wine of hallucination, yet — I am a mortal 
man ! at least I dream I am, wherefore I am fain 
exclaim with the poet 



'Thus let me dream, forever, on!*' 



4 



"I think," modestly interposed Philip Sterling, 

130 "that I might perhaps throw a little light on the 

subject; at any rate, the number of experiments 

will increase the probability of our conclusions drawn 

therefrom. Now as I passed down the road, in this 

dream, I observed a still where they make apple- 

135 brandy; and propounding some questions as to the 

modu^ agendi to a benevolent-looking lady who 

stood in the house hard by, she, if I dream not, 

begged that I would accept this bottle, which I now 

uncork, I think, and which, if all end well, will 

140 enable me to say, in the words of the song, 

*I see her still in my dreams.' 

But if it should be wild-wine of the Devil, or newt's- 
eye and frog-toe porridge, or other noxious jigote of 
hags and witches — stand around to receive me as I 
145 fall. I waive the politeness which requires I should 
offer this bottle first to my fellow-dreamers here, 



PROSE 81 

Mr. Briggs and Mr. Smallin, in consideration that 
they should lose two such valuable lives. I re- 
quest that I be decently buried and news sent home, 
if it prove fatal, as I fear. I drink ! Friends, adieu, 150 
adieu!" 

"Why, this," quoth Briggs, "is surely much 
adieu about nothing ! " 

The bottle went up to the mouth, like its friend 
the canteen, and stayed, like its friend. While it 155 
hung in mid-air — 

"Good Heavens !" exclaimed Aubrey, "the poison 
is taking effect ! He has not strength to remove it 
from his mouth ! " 

"Gentlemen, all is over!" said Riibetsahl, and leo 
groaned, and, seizing Philip, dragged him to the 
green bank of the road, when the draggee fell back 
in true stage-fashion, not forgetting to spread his 
handkerchief upon the hillock where he laid his 
dying head : " I would not die," muttered he, " with i65 
my hair full of cockle-burrs!" 

"Danged ef this 'ere ham aint mighty nigh as 
good as fresh ven'zun ! " quoth sturdy Cain Smallin, 
who had dismounted and seated himself on a stump, 
while his lower jaw worked like a trip-hammer re- 170 
versed, to the great detriment of a huge slice of 
bread and ham which he had produced from his 
capacious haversack. " 'Pears^ like as if I never 
was so horngry sence I was froze up over on old 
Smoky Mount'n, one Christmas. I b'leeve I haint 175 
done nuthin' but eat sence we was detailed f'om 
the ngiment, t'other side o' Richmond ! You better 
b'leeve now — Gentle7^en.^" he exclaimed suddenly, 



82 SELECTIONS FROM SIDNEY LANIER 

" look at yan nigger down the road ! He travels 
180 as peert as ef he was a-carryin' orders to a Tigiment 
to come down into the fight double-quick. Hornet 
must ha' stung his mule; or sumthin' !" 

At this moment a negro dashed up on a mule 
whose pace he was accelerating with lusty encour- 
185 agement of switch, foot, and voice. 

"Halt there, caballero hot with haste and coal- 
black with speed !" cried Flemington. "What's the 
matter ? " 

" Good God, Marster, de Yankee niggahs is play- 
190 in' de devil wid old Mistis down de road yonder ! 
Dey done hung old Marster up to a tree-limb to 
make him tell whah he put de las' year's brandy 
an' he nuwer tole em; an' I seed 'em a-histe-in 
him up agin, an' I run roun' to de stable an' tuk 
195 out ole Becky here an' cum a-stavin'; an' I 'lowed 
to myse'f I'd save one mule for ole Marster anyhow 
ef he lives, which I don't b'leeve he's agwine to do 
it nohow; an — " 

"Mount, men!" Flemington jumped into the 
200 saddle. "How far is it to the house? What's 
your name?" — to the negro. 

"Name Charles, sah: Charles, de ca'ige-driver. 

Hit's about a half ur three-quarter thar, f 'om here." 

"Have they got out a picket; did you see any of 

205 them riding this way while the others were in the 

house ? " 

"Yaas, sah; seed one cumin' dis ways as I cum 
de back-way, out o' de lot ! " 

"'Twon't do to ride any further, then. Get off 
210 your mule, Charles. Boys, dismount and tie your 



PROSE 83 

horses In the bushes here, off the road. We'll go 
round this back-way. Lead the way; and keep un- 
der cover of the hedge and the fence, yonder, 
everybody, so they can't see us." 

While the words were being spoken the command 215 
had been executed, and the party struck into a 
rapid walk down a path which led off from the 
road in the direction of the river. Presently they 
crossed a fence; and stopped to peep through the 
rails of another, running perpendicularly to the path. 220 
A large house, part brick, part wooden, embowered 
in trees, appeared at a short distance. 

"Dat's de place!" whispered Charles, the car- 
riage-driver. 

Flemington had already formed his plans. 225 

"Men, they're all inside the house, except the 
picket out in the road yonder. I'm going to creep 
up close to the house just behind that brick garden- 
wall there, and see how things look. The rest of 
you keep down this side o' the fence, and get just 230 
behind the long cattle-stable in rear of the house, 
— 'tisn't twenty yards — and every man for himself I 
Come with a yell or two. Cain, you come with 
me. Here goes over the fence: quick!" 

The minutes and the men crept on, like silent 235 
worms. Flemington and Smallin gained their wall, 
which ran within a few feet of the house, unper- 
ceived. 

"I'll stop here, Cain. You creep on, close down, 
old fellow, until you get to the front fence yonder, 240 
and wait there till I shoot. Then come on like a 
big rock tumbling down Old Smoky !" 



84 SELECTIONS FROM SIDNEY LANIER 

An old man was lying on the grass-plat, with a 
rope-noose still hanging round his neck. Over him 

245 bent a young girl. She was dashing water in his 
face and chafing his hands in the endeavor to re- 
store the life which, by his bloodless face and the 
blue streak under his eyes, seemed to have taken 
its departure forever. Near them sat a corpulent 

250 old lady, on the ground, passive with grief, rocking 
herself to and fro, in that most pathetic gesture of 
sorrowing age. 

Inside the house was Bedlam. Oaths, yells of 
triumph, taunts, and menaces mingled with the 

255 crash of breaking crockery and the shuffling of heavy 
feet. 

Just as Flemington raised his head above the wall, 
four stout negroes staggered through a wide door 
which gave upon a balcony of the second story, 

260 bearing a huge old-fashioned wardrobe which they 
lifted over the railing and let drop. A wild shout 
went up as the wardrobe crashed to the ground and 
burst open, revealing a miscellaneous mass of the 
garments that are known to the other sex. 

265 "Mo' good clo'es!" cried the four, and dived 
back into the door for new plunder. 

Through the parlor-window, just opposite Flem- 
ington, appeared a burly black, with rolling eyes 
and grinning mouth, seated at the piano. With 

270 both fists he banged the keys, while he sang a 
ribald song at the top of a voice rendered hideously 
husky by frequent potations from a demijohn that 
stood on the centre-table. Suddenly the performer 
jumped from his seat. 



PROSE 85 

"Damn ef you'll ever play on dat pianner agin, 275 
you Becky Parven !" said he, and seized an axe and 
chopped the instrument in pieces. 

The raiders — unauthorized ones, as Flemington 
knew — had evidently found the brandy. They were 
already infuriated by it. It was with difficulty that 28O 
Flemington could refrain from firing long enough to 
allow the rest of the party to gain their position. 

Suddenly a huge negro, dressed in the tawdriest 
of uniforms, which he had just been decorating with 
all conceivable ornaments tied to whatever button 285 
offered a support to dangle from, rushed out of the 
house towards the group in front, exclaiming, — 

"By de livin' God, I'm de Cap'n and I'm gwine 
to do de kissin' fur de comp'ny ! You needn't 
shake, old lady Parven, I'm a'ter dem red lips over 290 
yonder!" — pointing to Rebecca Parven. 

Flemington could withhold no longer. He fired; 
the black captain fell, an answering yell came from 
the stable-yard, he leaped the wall and rushed 
towards the house, meeting Aubrey, who exclaimed 295 
hurriedly, — "The rest ran into the back-door, 
Flem; I ran round for fear they might be too many 
for you in front, as they came out." 

Almost simultaneously three shots were fired in- 
side the house, and eight or ten negroes in blue uni- 300 
forms rushed through the front door and down the 
steps. In their ardor Flemington and Aubrey gave 
no ground. The foremost negro on the steps fell, 
his companions tumbled over him, the whole mass 
precipitated itself upon Flemington and Aubrey, 305 
and bore them to the earth. 



86 SELECTIONS FROM SIDNEY LANIER 

At this moment the black commander, whom 
Flemington's bullet had merely stunned for a mo- 
ment, scrambled to his feet, and seeing the other 

310 three of Flemington's party running down the 
steps, called out, "Jump up, boys; de aint but five 
of 'em, we can whip de lights out'n 'em, yit!" 
Brandishing his sabre, he ran towards Flemington, 
who was just rising from the ground. 

315 The surprised negroes took heart from the bold 
tone and action of their commander, and com- 
menced an active scramble for whatever offensive 
weapons lay about. In the undisciplined haste of 
plunderers they had thrown down their arms in 

320 various places inside the house, the necessity of 
caution being entirely over-whelmed by the more 
pressing one of arm-room for the bulky articles 
which each was piling up for himself. To prevent 
them from grasping the axes and farming imple- 

325 ments about the yard, besides two or three guns 
and sabres that had been abandoned by the most 
eager of the plunderers before entering the house, 
now required the most active exertions on the part 
of the Confederates whose number was actually 

330 reduced to four, since Flemington was entirely oc- 
cupied in repelling the savage onslaught of the 
colored leader. 

To increase their critical situation, nothing was 
heard of Cain Smallin; and they could ill afford to 

335 lose the great personal strength, not to speak of the 
yet unfired rifle, of the mountaineer, in a contest 
where the odds both in numbers and individual 
power were so much against them. 



PROSE 87 

Affairs grew serious. Flemington, for ten minutes, 
had had arms, legs, and body in unceasing play, to 340 
parry with his short unbayoneted carbine the fu- 
rious cuts of his antagonist. He was growing tired ; 
while his foe, infuriated by brandy and burning for 
revenge, seemed to gather strength each moment 
and to redouble his blows. The others were too 345 
busy to render any assistance to their lieutenant. 
John Briggs had just made a close race with three 
negroes for an axe that lay down the avenue, and 
was now standing over it endeavoring with desper- 
ate whirls of his carbine to defend at once the 350 
front, flank, and rear of his position. 

Flemington felt his knees giving way, a faint 
dizziness came over him, and in another moment he 
would have been cloven from skull to breast-bone, 
when suddenly John Briggs called out cheerily, — 355 

" Hurrah, boys ! Here's help 1" 

All the combatants stopped to glance towards 
the gate that opened from the main road into the 
short avenue leading to the house. True ! On the 
other side the hedge appeared a cloud of dust, from 360 
which sounded the voices of a dozen men, — 

"Give the nigs hell, thar, boys !" shouted a bass- 
voice. "Here we come; hold 'em thar, Flem!" 
came in treble, as if from a boy-soldier. "You 
four men on the right, thar, ride round 'em, cut 365 
'em off from the back-yard !" commanded the sten- 
torian voice of Cain Smallin. 

The tide of victory turned in an instant, and bore 
off, on its ebb, the colored raiders. Their com- 
mander hastily jumped over the garden wall and 370 



88 SELECTIONS FROM SIDNEY LANIER 

made huge strides towards the woods, his followers 
scattering in flight towards the nearest cover. 

Too weak to pursue his frightened opponent, 
Flemington sat down to rest, gazing curiously to- 

375 wards the reinforcing voices. 

"Open the gate thar, you men in front I" came 
from the advancing dust-cloud. The gate flew open; 
in rushed a frightened herd of cows, sheep, horses, 
mules, hogs, and oxen, in whose midst appeared the 

380 tall form of Cain Smallin. Armed with a huge 
branch of a thorn-tree in each hand, he was darting 
about amongst the half-wild cattle, belaboring them 
on all sides, crowding them together and then scatter- 
ing the mass, what time he poured forth a torrent 

385 of inspiring war-cries in all tones of voice, from 
basso-profundo to boy-soprano. On comes he, like 
an avalanche with a whirl-wind in it, down the 
avenue, all unconscious of the success of his strat- 
agem, stretching out his long neck over the cows' 

390 backs to observe the situation in his front, and not 
ceasing to dart to and fro, to belabor, and to utter 
his many-voiced battle-cries. 

"'Gad, he don't see a thing!" exclaimed Briggs; 
" his eyes are mud-holes of dust and perspiration I 

395 He'll run over the old gentleman there, boys: let's 
get him into the porch;" and the four had barely 
lifted the still unconscious man up the steps when 
the cattle-cavalry thundered by, splitting at the 
house like a stream on a rock, and flowing tumul- 

400 tuously each side of it towards the back-yard. 

"Hold up, Cain ! Hold up, man I" shouted Flem- 
ington; "the enemy's whipped and gonel" 



PROSE 89 

Mr. SmalHn came to a stop in his furious career, 
and, covered with the dust and sweat of grimy 
war, advanced at a more dignified pace to the steps 405 
where his party were resting. 

"Yo see, boys," said he wiping his face with his 
coat-sleeve, "I was a right smart time a-comin', 
but when I did come, I cum, by the Livin' I Phe- 
e-e-w!" continued he, blowing of! his excitement. 4io 
"Reckin you thought I was a whole brigade, didn't 
ye? An' I'm blasted ef I didn't make mighty nigh 
as much rumpus as any common brigade, sure's 
you're born to die ! Ye see, I was creepin' along 
to'rds the road out yan, an' I seed all them critters 4i5 
penned up in a little pen just 'cross the road over 
against yan gate, an' I 'lowed to myself 'at the 
niggers had jest marched along the road an' druv 
along all the cattle in the country for to carry 'em 
back across the river. An' so I thought if I could 420 
git them bulls thar — mighty fine bulls they is too 1 
— git 'em right mad, an' let the whole kit an' bilin' 
of 'em through yan gate down to'rds the house, I 
mought skeer somebody mighty bad ez I didn't do 
nothin' else; an' so I jest lit in amongst 'em thar, an' 425 
tickled 'em all right smart with yan thorn bushes 
till they was tolubble mad, an' then fotch 'em 
through the gate a-bilin' I I've druv cattle afore, 
gentlemen!" concluded Mr. Smallin, with a dignity 
which was also a generosity, since, while it asserted 430 
his own skill, it at the same time apologized for 
those who might have attempted such a feat and 
failed from want of practice in driving cattle. 



90 SELECTIONS FROM SIDNEY LANIER 
THE OCKLAWAHA RIVER 

FROM "FLORIDA" 

For a perfect journey God gave us a perfect day. ' 
The little Ocklawaha steamboat Marion — a steam- 
boat which is like nothing in the world so much as a 
Pensacola gopher with a preposterously exaggerated 

5 back — had started from Palatka some hours before 
daylight, having taken on her passengers the night ♦ 
previous; and by seven o'clock of such a May morn- 
ing as no words could describe unless words were 
themselves May mornings we had made the twenty- 

10 five miles up the St. Johns, to where the Ocklawaha 
flows into that stream nearly opposite Welaka, one 
hundred miles above Jacksonville. 

Just before entering the mouth of the river our 
little gopher-boat scrambled alongside a long raft of 

15 pine logs which had been brought in separate sec- 
tions down the Ocklawaha and took off the lumber- 
men, to carry them back for another descent while 
this raft was being towed by a tug to Jackson- 
ville. 

20 Observe that man who is now stepping from the 
wet logs to the bow of the Marion — how can he ever 
cut down a tree? He is a slim native, and there 
is not bone enough in his whole body to make the 
left leg of a good English coal-heaver; moreover, 

25 he does not seem to have the least idea that a man 
needs grooming. He is disheveled and wry-trussed 
to the last degree; his poor weasel jaws nearly 
touch their inner sides as they suck at the acrid 



PROSE 91 

ashes in his dreadful pipe; and there is no single 
filament of either his hair or his beard that does not so 
look sourly, and at wild angles, upon its neighbor 
filament. His eyes are viscidly unquiet; his nose 
is merely dreariness come to a point; the corners of 
his mouth are pendulous with that sort of suffering 
which does not involve any heroism, such as being 35 
out of tobacco, waiting for the corn-bread to get 
cooked, and the like; his — but, poor devil ! I with- 
draw all these remarks. He has a right to look 
disheveled, or any other way he likes. For listen: 
"Wall, sir," he says, with a dilute smile, as he 40 
wearily leans his arm against the low deck where I 
am sitting, "ef we did'n' have ther sentermentillest 
rain last night, I'll be dad-busted 1" 

He had been in it all night. 

Presently we rounded the raft, abandoned the 45 
broad and garish highway of the St. Johns, and 
turned off to the right into the narrow lane of the 
Ocklawaha, the sweetest water-lane in the world, a 
lane which runs for more than a hundred and fifty 
miles of pure delight betwixt hedgerows of oaks and 50 
cypresses and palms and bays and magnolias and 
mosses and manifold vine-growths, a lane clean to 
travel along for there is never a speck of dust in it 
save the blue dust and gold dust which the wind 
blows out of the flags and lilies, a lane which is as 55 
if a typical woods-stroll had taken shape and as if 
God had turned into water and trees the recollection 
of some meditative ramble through the lonely se- 
clusions of His own soul. 

As we advanced up the stream our wee craft even eo 



92 SELECTIONS FROM SIDNEY LANIER 

seemed to emit her steam in more leisurely whiffs, as 
one puffs one's cigar in a contemplative walk through 
the forest. Dick, the pole-man — a man of marvel- 
ous fine functions when we shall presently come to 
65 the short, narrow curves — lay asleep on the guards, 
in great peril of rolling into the river over the three 
inches between his length and the edge; the people 
of the boat moved not, and spoke not; the white 
crane, the curlew, the limpkin, the heron, the water- 
70 turkey, were scarcely disturbed in their quiet avo- 
cations as we passed, and quickly succeeded in 
persuading themselves after each momentary ex- 
citement of our gliding by that we were really after 
all no monster, but only some day-dream of a mon- 
75 ster. The stream, which in its broader stretches 
reflected the sky so perfectly that it seemed a riband 
of heaven bound in lovely doublings along the breast 
of the land, now began to narrow: the blue of 
heaven disappeared, and the green of the over- 
go leaning trees assumed its place. The lucent current 
lost all semblance of water. It was simply a dis- 
tillation of many-shaded foliages, smoothly sweep- 
ing along beneath us. It was green trees, fluent. 
One felt that a subtle amalgamation and mutual 
85 give-and-take had been effected between the natures 
of water and leaves. A certain sense of pellucidness 
seemed to breathe coolly out of the woods on either 
side of us; and the glassy dream of a forest over 
which we sailed appeared to send up exhalations of 
90 balms and odors and stimulant pungencies. 

"Look at that snake in the water!" said a gen- 
tleman, as we sat on deck with the engineer, just 



1 



PROSE 93 

come up from his watch. The engineer smiled. 
"Sir, it is a water-turkey," he said gently. 

The water-turkey is the most preposterous bird 95 
within the range of ornithology. He is not a bird, 
he is a neck, with such subordinate rights, members, 
appurtenances and hereditaments thereunto apper- 
taining as seem necessary to that end. He has just 
enough stomach to arrange nourishment for his 100 
neck, just enough wings to fly painfully along with 
his neck, and just big enough legs to keep his neck 
from dragging on the ground; and his neck is light 
colored, while the rest of him is black. When he 
saw us he jumped up on a limb and stared. Then 105 
suddenly he dropped into the water, sank like a 
leaden ball out of sight, and made, us think he was 
drowned — when presently the tip of his beak ap- 
peared, then the length of his neck lay along the 
surface of the water, and in this position, with his 110 
body submerged, he shot out his neck, drew it back, 
wriggled it, twisted it, twiddled it, and spirally 
poked it into the east, the west, the north, and the 
south, with a violence of involution and a contor- 
tionary energy that made one think in the same 115 
breath of corkscrews and of lightnings. But what 
nonsense ! All that labor and perilous asphyxiation 
— for a beggarly sprat or a couple of inches of water- 
snake ! 

But I make no doubt he would have thought us as 120 
absurd as we him if he could have seen us taking 
our breakfast a few minutes later: for as we sat 
there, some half-dozen men at table, all that sombre 
melancholy which comes over the American at his 



94 SELECTIONS FROM SIDNEY LANIER 

125 meals descended upon us; no man talked, each of us 
could hear the other crunch his bread in faucibus, 
and the noise thereof seemed in the ghostly stillness 
like the noise of earthquakes and of crashing worlds; 
even the furtive glances towards each other's plates 

130 were presently awed down to a sullen gazing of each 
into his own; the silence increased, the noises be- 
came intolerable, a cold sweat broke out over at 
least one of us, he felt himself growing insane, and 
rushed out to the deck with a sigh as of one saved 

135 from a dreadful death by social suffocation. 

There is a certain position a man can assume on 
board the steamer Marion which constitutes an 
attitude of perfect rest, and leaves one's body in 
such blessed ease that one's soul receives the heav- 

140 enly influences of the Ocklawaha sail absolutely 
without physical impediment. 

Know, therefore, tired friend that shall hereafter 
ride up the Ocklawaha on the Marion — whose name 
I would fain call Legion — that if you will place ai 

145 chair just in the narrow passage-way which runs 
alongside the cabin, at the point where this passage- 
way descends by a step to the open space in front of | 
the pilot-house, on the left-hand side facing to the 
bow, you will perceive a certain slope in the railing 

150 where it descends by an angle of some thirty degrees | 
to accommodate itself to the step aforesaid; and this 
slope should be in such a position as that your left 
leg unconsciously stretches itself along the same by 
the pure insinuating solicitations of the fitness of 

155 things, and straightway dreams itself off into an 
Elysian tranquillity. You should then tip your 



PROSE 95 

chair in a slightly diagonal position back to the side 
of the cabin, so that your head will rest there- 
against, your right arm will hang over the chair- 
back, and your left arm will repose on the railing, loo 
I give no specijfic instruction for your right leg, be- 
cause I am disposed to be liberal in this matter and 
to leave some gracious scope for personal idiosyn- 
crasies as well as a margin of allowance for the acci- 
dents of time and place; dispose your right leg, les 
therefore, as your heart may suggest, or as all the 
precedent forces of time and the universe may have 
combined to require you. 

Having secured this attitude, open wide the eyes 
of your body and of your soul; repulse with a i70 
heavenly suavity the conversational advances of the 
drummer who fancies he might possibly sell you a bill 
of white goods and notions, as well as the polite in- 
quiries of the real-estate person who has his little 
private theory that you are in search of an orange- i75 
grove to purchase; then sail, sail, sail, through the 
cypresses, through the vines, through the May day, 
through the floating suggestions of the unutterable 
that come up, that sink down, that waver and sway 
hither and thither; and so shall you have revelations iso 
of rest, and so shall your heart forever afterwards 
interpret Ocklawaha to mean repose. 

Some twenty miles from the mouth of the Ock- 
lawaha, at the right-hand edge of the stream, is the 
handsomest residence in America. It belongs to a i85 
certain alligator of my acquaintance, a very honest 
and worthy saurian, of good repute. A little cove 
of water, dark green under the overhanging leaves, 



96 SELECTIONS FROM SIDNEY LANIER 

placid, pellucid, curves round at the river edge into 

190 the flags and lilies, with a curve just heart-breaking 
for the pure beauty of the flexure of it. This house 
of my saurian is divided into apartments — little 
subsidiary bays which are scalloped out by the lily- 
pads according to the sinuous fantasies of their 

195 growth. My saurian, when he desires to sleep, has 
but to lie down anywhere: he will find marvelous 
mosses for his mattress beneath him; his sheets will 
be white lily-petals; and the green disks of the 
lily-pads will straightway embroider themselves to- 

200 gether above him for his coverlet. He never quar- 
rels with his cook, he is not the slave of a kitchen, 
and his one house-maid — the stream — forever sweeps 
his chamber clean. His conservatories there under 
the glass of that water are ever and without labor 

205 filled with the enchantments of strange under-water 
growths; his parks and his pleasure-grounds are 
bigger than any king's. Upon my saurian's house 
the winds have no power, the rains are only a new 
delight to him, and the snows he will never see. 

210 Regarding fire, as he does not employ its slavery, so 
he does not fear its tyranny. Thus, all the elements 
are the friends of my saurian's house. While he 
sleeps he is being bathed. What glory to awake 
sweetened and freshened by the sole careless act of 

215 sleep! 

Lastly, my saurian has unnumbered mansions, and 
can change his dwelling as no human householder 
may; it is but a fillip of his tail, and lo ! he is estab- 
lished in another place as good as the last, ready 

220 furnished to his liking. 



PROSE 97 

For many miles together the Ocklawaha is a river 
without banks, though not less clearly defined as a 
stream for that reason. The swift, deep current 
meanders between tall lines of trees; beyond these, 
on each side, there is water also — a thousand shallow 225 
rivulets lapsing past the bases of multitudes of trees. 
Along the immediate edges of the stream every tree- 
trunk, sapling, stump, or other projecting coign of 
vantage is wrapped about with a close-growing vine. 
At first, like an unending procession of nuns dis- 230 
posed along the aisle of a church these vine-figures 
stand. But presently, as one journeys, this nun- 
imagery fades out of one's mind, and a thousand 
other fancies float with ever-new vine-shapes into 
one's eyes. One sees repeated all the forms one has 235 
ever known, in grotesque juxtaposition. Look ! here 
is a great troop of girls, with arms wreathed over 
their heads, dancing down into the water; here are 
high velvet armchairs and lovely green fauteuils of 
divers pattern and of softest cushionment; there the 240 
vines hang in loops, in pavilions, in columns, in 
arches, in caves, in pyramids, in women's tresses, 
in harps and lyres, in globular mountain-ranges, 
in pagodas, domes, minarets, machicolated towers, 
dogs, belfries, draperies, fish, dragons. Yonder is a 245 
bizarre congress — Una on her lion, Angelo's Moses, 
two elephants with howdahs, the Laocoon group, 
Arthur and Lancelot with great brands extended 
aloft in combat, Adam bent with love and grief 
leading Eve out of Paradise, Caesar shrouded in his 250 
mantle receiving his stabs, Greek chariots, locomo- 
tives, brazen shields and cuirasses, columbiads, the 



98 SELECTIONS FROM SIDNEY LANIER ' 

twelve Apostles, the stock exchange. It Is a green: 
dance of all things and times. 

255 The edges of the stream are further defined by 
flowers and water-leaves. The tall, blue flags; the 
ineffable lilies sitting on their round lily-pads like 
white queens on green thrones; the tiny stars and 
long ribbons of the water-grasses; the pretty pha- 

260 lanxes of a species of "bonnet" which from a long: 
stem that swings off down-stream along the surface 
sends up a hundred little graceful stemlets, each 
bearing a shield-like disk and holding it aloft as the 
antique soldiers held their bucklers to form the 

265 testudo, or tortoise, in attacking. All these border; 
the river in infinite varieties of purfling and chase- 
ment. 

The river itself has an errant fantasy, and takes* 
many shapes. Presently we come to where it seems 

270 to fork into four separate curves above and below.. 

"Them's the Windin'-blades," said my raftsman.! 

To look down these lovely vistas is like looking down- 

the dreams of some pure young girl's soul; and the 

gray moss-bearded trees gravely lean over them in 

275 contemplative attitudes, as if they were studying — • 
in the way strong men should study — the mysteries 
and sacrednesses and tender depths of some visible 
reverie of maidenhood. 

— And then, after this day of glory, came a night 

280 of glory. Down in these deep-shaded lanes it was 
dark indeed as the night drew on. The stream 
which had been all day a baldrick of beauty, some- 
times blue and sometimes green, now became a black 
band of mystery. But presently a brilliant flame 



PROSE 99' 

flares out overhead: they have Hghted the pine-' 235 
knots on top of the pilot-house. The fire advances up 
these dark sinuosities Hke a brilHant god that for his 
mere whimsical pleasure calls the black impenetra- 
ble chaos ahead into instantaneous definite forms as 
he floats along the river-curves. The white columns 290 
of the cypress-trunks, the silver-embroidered crowns 
of the maples, the green-and-white of the lilies along 
the edges of the stream — these all come in a con- 
tinuous apparition out of the bosom of the darkness 
and retire again : it is endless creation succeeded by 295 
endless oblivion. Startled birds suddenly flutter 
into the light, and after an instant of illuminated 
flight melt into the darkness. From the perfect 
silence of these short flights one derives a certain 
sense of awe. Mystery appears to be about to utter 300 
herself in these suddenly-illuminated forms, and then 
to change her mind and die back into mystery. 

Now there is a mighty crack and crash : limbs and 
leaves scrape and scrub along the deck; a little bell 
tinkles; we stop. In turning a short curve, or 305 
rather doubling, the boat has run her nose smack 
into the right bank, and a projecting stump has 
thrust itself sheer through the starboard side. Out, 
Dick ! out, Henry I Dick and Henry shuffle forward 
to the bow, thrust forth their long white pole against 310 
a tree-trunk, strain and push and bend to the deck 
as if they were salaaming the god of night and ad- 
versity, our bow slowly rounds into the stream, the 
wheel turns, and we puff quietly along. 

Somewhere back yonder in the stern Dick is sis 
whistling. You should hear him ! With the great 



100 SELECTIONS FROM SIDNEY LANIER 

aperture of his mouth, and the rounding vibratory- 
surfaces of his thick Hps, he gets out a mellow 
breadth of tone that almost entitles him to rank as 
320 an orchestral instrument. Here is his tune: 



Allegretto, 



JD, C. ad infinitum. 



F--^ 



^^ 



It is a genuine plagal cadence. Observe the syn- 
copations marked in this air: they are characteristic 
of negro music. I have heard negroes change a 
well-known melody by adroitly syncopating it in 

325 this way, so as to give it a bizarre effect scarcely 
imaginable; and nothing illustrates the negro's nat- 
ural gifts in the way of keeping a difficult tempo more 
clearly than his perfect execution of airs thus trans- 
formed from simple to complex accentuations. 

330 Dick has changed his tune : allegro ! 



?# 



w^^^^m 



-f-#- 



i 



att 



N to 



^^ 



IEjI^ 



w ' J — I — J 



?=P= 



335 



Da capo, of course, and da capo indefinitely; for 
it ends on the dominant. The dominant is a chord 
of progress: no such thing as stopping. It is like 
dividing ten by nine, and carrying out the decimal 
remainders: there is always one over. 



PROSE 101 

Thus the negro shows that he does not like the 
ordinary accentuations nor the ordinary cadences 
of tunes: his ear is primitive. If you will follow 
the course of Dick's musical reverie — which he now 
thinks is solely a matter betwixt himself and the 34o 
night, as he sits back yonder in the stern alone — 
presently you will hear him sing a whole minor tune 
without once using a semitone: the semitone is 
weak, it is a dilution, it is not vigorous like the whole 
tone; and I have seen a whole congregation of ne- 345 
groes at night, as they were worshipping in their 
church with some wild song or other and swaying to 
and fro with the ecstasy and the glory of it, abandon 
as by one consent the semitone that should come 
according to the civilized modus, and sing in its place sso 
a big lusty whole tone that would shake any man's 
soul. It is strange to observe that some of the most 
magnificent effects in advanced modern music are 
produced by this same method, notably in the works 
of Asger Hamerik of Baltimore, and of Edward Grieg 355 
of Copenhagen. Any one who has heard Thomas's 
orchestra lately will have no difficulty in remember- 
ing his delight at the beautiful Nordische Suite by the 
former writer and the piano concerto by the latter. 

— And then it was bed-time. Let me tell you how 360 
to sleep on an Ocklawaha steamer in May. With a 
small bribe persuade Jim, the steward, to take the 
mattress out of your berth and lay it slanting just 
along the railing that incloses the lower part of the 
deck, in front, and to the left, of the pilot-house. Lie 365 
flat-backed down on the same, draw your blanket 
over you, put your cap on your head in consideration 



102 SELECTIONS FROM SIDNEY LANIER 

of the night air, fold your arms, say some little 
prayer or other, and fall asleep with a star looking 
370 right down yom* eye. 

When you awake in the morning, your night will 
not seem any longer, any blacker, any less pure than 
this perfect white blank in the page; and you will 
feel as new as Adam. 

375 — At sunrise, I woke, and found that we were 
lying with the boat's nose run up against a sandy 
bank which quickly rose into a considerable hill. A 
sandy-whiskered native came down from the pine 
cabin on the knoll. "How air ye?" he sung out 5 

380 to the skipper, with an evident expectation in his 
voice. " Got any freight fur me ? " 

The skipper handed him a heavy parcel, in brown 
paper. He examined it keenly with all his eyes, felt 
it over carefully with all his fingers; his counte- 

385 nance fell, and the shadow of a great despair came 
over it. 

" Look-a-here," he said, "haint you brought me 
no terbacker?" 

"Not unless it's in that bundle," said the skipper. 

390 "Hell !" he said, "hit's nothin' but shot;" and he 
turned off into the forest, as we shoved away, with a 
face like the face of the Apostate Julian when the 
devils were dragging him down the pit. 

I would have let my heart go out in sympathy to 

395 this man — for his agonizing after terbacker, ere the 
next week bring the Marion again, is not a thing to be 
laughed at — had I not believed that he was one of the 
vanilla-gatherers. You must know that in the low 



PROSE 103 

grounds of the Ocklawaha grows what is called the 
vanilla-plant — a plant with a leaf much like that of 4oo 
tobacco when dried. This leaf is now extensively 
used to adulterate cheap chewing tobacco, and the 
natives along the Ocklawaha drive a considerable 
trade in gathering it. The process of this com- 
merce is exceedingly simple: and the bills drawn 405 
against the consignments are primitive. The officer 
in charge of the Marion showed me several of the 
communications received at various landings during 
our journey, which accompanied small shipments of 
the spurious weed. They were generally about as 410 
follows: 

"Deer Sir 

"i send you one bag Verneller, pleeze fetch one par 
of shus numb 8 and ef enny over fetch twelve yards 
hoamspin. 415 

"Yrs trly 

"&c." 

The captain of the steamer takes the bags to 
Palatka, barters the vanilla for the articles specified, 
and distributes these on the next trip to their re- 420 
spective owners. 

In a short time we came to the junction of the 
river formed by the irruption of Silver Spring ("Sil- 
ver Spring Run ") with the Ocklawaha proper. Here 
new astonishments befell. The water of the Ockla- 425 
waha, which had before seemed clear enough, now 
showed but like a muddy stream as it flowed side 
by side, unmixing for some distance, with the Silver 
Spring water. 



m 



104 SELECTIONS FROM SIDNEY LANIER 



430 The Marion now left the Ocklawaha and turned 
into the Run. How shall one speak quietly of this 
journey over transparency ? The Run is very deep : 
the white bottom seems hollowed out in a continual 
succession of large spherical holes, whose entire con- 

435 tents of darting fish, of under-mosses, of flowers, of 
submerged trees, of lily-stems, and of grass-ribbons 
revealed themselves to us through the lucent fluid 
as we sailed along thereover. The long series of 
convex bodies of water filling these white concavities | 

440 impressed one like a chain of globular worlds com- 
posed of a transparent lymph. Great numbers of 
keen-snouted, blade-bodied gar-fish shot to and fro 
in unceasing motion beneath us: it seemed as if 
the underworlds were filled with a multitude of 

445 crossing sword-blades wielded in tireless thrust and 
parry by invisible arms. 

The shores, too, had changed. They now opened 
out into clear savannas, overgrown with a broad- 
leafed grass to a perfect level two or three feet above 

450 the water, and stretching back to boundaries of 
cypress and oaks; and occasionally, as we passed one 
of these expanses curving into the forest, with a 
diameter of a half-mile, a single palmetto might be 
seen in or near the centre — perfect type of that lone- 

455 some solitude which the German names Einsamkeit 
— onesomeness. Then again, the cypress and pal- 
mettos would swarm to the stream and line its banks. 
Thus for nine miles, counting our gigantic rosary of 
water-wonders and lovelinesses, we fared on. 

460 Then we rounded to, in the very bosom of the 
Silver Spring itself, and came to wharf. Here there 



PROSE 105 

were warehouses, a turpentine distillery, men run- 
ning about with boxes of freight and crates of Florida 
cucumbers for the Northern market, country stores 
with wondrous assortments of goods — fiddles, clothes, 4G5 
physic, groceries, school-books, what not — and a 
little farther up the shore, a tavern. I learned, in a 
hasty way, that Ocala was five miles distant, that one 
could get a very good conveyance from the tavern 
to that place, and that on the next day — Sunday — 470 
a stage would leave Ocala for Gainesville, some forty 
miles distant, being the third relay of the long stage- 
line which runs three times a week between Tampa 
and Gainesville, via Brooksville and Ocala. 

Then the claims of scientific fact and of guide- 475 
book information could hold me no longer. I ceased 
to acquire knowledge, and got me back to the won- 
derful spring, drifting over it, face downwards, as 
over a new world of delight. 

It is sixty feet deep a few feet off shore, and 48o 
covers an irregular space of several acres before con- 
tracting into its outlet — the Run. But this sixty 
feet does not at all represent the actual impression 
of depth which one receives, as one looks through 
the superincumbent water down to the clearly 4S5 
revealed bottom. The distinct sensation is, that 
although the bottom there is clearly seen, and al- 
though all the objects in it are of their natural size, 
undiminished by any narrowing of the visual angle, 
yet it and they are seen from a great distance. It is 490 
as if depth itself — that subtle abstraction — had been 
compressed into a crystal lymph, one inch of which 
would represent miles of ordinary depth. 



106 SELECTIONS FROM SIDNEY LANIER 

As one rises from gazing into these quaint pro- 

495 fundities and glances across the broad surface of 
the spring, one's eye is met by a charming mosaic of 
briUiant hues. The water-plain varies in color, ac- 
cording to what it lies upon. Over the pure white 
limestone and shells of the bottom it is perfect mala- 

500 chite green; over the water-grass it is a much darker 
green; over the sombre moss it is that rich brown and 
green which Bodmer's forest-engravings so vividly 
suggest; over neutral bottoms it reflects the sky's 
or the cloud's colors. All these views are further 

605 varied by mixture with the manifold shades of 
foliage-reflections cast from overhanging boscage 
near the shore, and still further by the angle of the 
observer's eye. 

One would think these elements of color-variation 

510 were numerous enough; but they were not nearly all. 
Presently the splash of an oar in a distant part of the 
spring sent a succession of ripples circling over the 
pool. Instantly it broke into a thousand-fold prism. 
Every ripple was a long curve of variegated sheen. 

615 The fundamental hues of the pool when at rest were 
distributed into innumerable kaleidoscopic flashes 
and brilliances, the multitudes of fish became mul- 
titudes of animated gems, and the prismatic lights 
seemed actually to waver and play through their 

520 translucent bodies, until the whole spring, in a great 
blaze of sunlight, shone like an enormous fluid jewel 
that without decreasing forever lapsed away upward 
in successive exhalations of dissolving sheens and 
glittering colors. 



PROSE 107 



THE TRAGEDY OF THE ALA^IO 

Early on the morning of the 9th of December, 
1835, General Cos sends a flag of truce, asking to 
surrender, and on the 10th agrees with the American 
general upon formal and honorable articles of capitu- 
lation. 5 

The poor citizens of San Antonio de Bexar, how- 
ever, do not yet enjoy the blessings of life in quiet; 
these wild soldiers who have stormed the town can- 
not remain long without excitement. Presently Dr. 
Grant revives his old project of taking Matamoros lo 
and soon departs, carrying with him most of the 
troops that had been left at Bexar for its defence, 
together with a great part of the garrison's winter 
supply of clothing, ammunition, and provisions, and 
in addition "pressing" such property of the citizens is 
as he needs, insomuch that Colonel Neill, at that 
time in command at Bexar, writes to the Governor of 
Texas that the place is left destitute and defenceless. 

Soon afterward Colonel Neill is ordered to destroy 
the Alamo walls and other fortifications, and bring 20 
off the artillery, since no head can be made there in 
the present crisis against the enemy who is reported 
marching in force upon San Antonio. Having no 
teams, Colonel Neill is unable to obey the order, and 
presently retires, his unpaid men having dropped off 25 
until but eighty remain, of whom Col. Wm. B. Travis 
assumes command. Colonel Travis promptly calls 
for more troops, but gets none as yet, for the Gov- 
ernor and Council are at deadly quarrel, and the 



108 SELECTIONS FROM SIDNEY LANIER 

30 soldiers are all pressing toward Matamoros. Travis 
has brought thirty men with him; about the middle 
of February he is joined by Colonel Bowie with 
thirty others, and these, with the eighty already in 
garrison, constitute the defenders of San Antonio de 

35 Bexar. 

On the 23d of February appears General Santa Ana 
at the head of a well-appointed army of some four 
thousand men, and marches straight on into town. 
The Texans retire before him slowly, and finally shut 

40 themselves up in the Alamo; here straightway be- 
gins that bloodiest, smokiest, grimiest tragedy of 
this century. William B. Travis, James Bowie, and 
David Crockett, with their hundred and forty-five 
effective men, are enclosed within a stone rectangle 

45 one hundred and ninety feet long and one hundred 
and twenty-two feet wide, having the old Church 
of the Alamo in the southeast corner, in which are 
their quarters and magazine. They have a supply 
of water from the ditches that run alongside the 

50 walls, and by way of provision they have about 
ninety bushels of corn and thirty beef-cattle, their 
entire stock, all collected since the enemy came in 
sight. The walls are unbroken, with no angles from 
which to command besieging lines. They have four- 

55 teen pieces of artillery mounted, with but little 
ammunition. 

Santa Ana demands unconditional surrender. 
Travis replies with a cannon-shot, and the attack 
commences, the enemy running up a blood-red flag 

60 in town. Travis despatches a messenger with a call 
to his countrymen for re-enforcements, which con- 



PROSE 109 

dudes: "Though this call may be neglected, I am 
determined to sustain myself as long as possible, and 
die like a soldier who never forgets what is due to his 
own honor and that of his country. Victory or 65 
death!" 

Meantime the enemy is active. On the 25th 
Travis has a sharp fight to prevent him from erecting 
a battery raking the gate of the Alamo. At night it 
is erected, with another a half-mile off at the powder- 7o 
house, on a sharp eminence at the extremity of the 
present main street of the town. On the 26th there 
is skirmishing with the Mexican cavalry. In the 
cold — for a norther has commenced to blow and 
the thermometer is down to thirty-nine — the Tex- 75 
ans make a sally successfully for wood and water, 
and that night they burn some old houses on the 
northeast that might afford cover for the enemy. 
So, amid the enemy's constant rain of shells and 
balls, which miraculously hurt no one, the Texans so 
strengthen their works and the siege goes on. On 
the 28th Fannin starts from Goliad with three hun- 
dred troops and four pieces of artillery, but for lack 
of teams and provisions quickly returns, and the 
little garrison is left to its fate. On the morning of 85 
the 1st of March there is doubtless a wild shout of 
welcome in the Alamo; Capt. John W. Smith has 
managed to convey thirty-two men into the fort. 
These join the heroes, and the attack and defence 
go on. On the 3d a single man, Moses Rose, es- 90 
capes from the fort. His account of that day' must 

' As transmitted by the Zuber family, whose residence was 
the first place at which poor Rose had dared to stop, and with 



110 SELECTIONS FROM SIDNEY LANIER 

entitle it to consecration as one of the most pa- 
thetic days of time. 

"About two hours before sunset on the 3d of 
95 March, 1836, the bombardment suddenly ceased, 
and the enemy withdrew an unusual distance. . . . 
Colonel Travis paraded all his effective men in 
a single file, and taking his position in front of 
the centre, he stood for some moments apparently 

100 speechless from emotion; then, nerving himself for 
the occasion, he addressed them substantially as fol- 
lows: 

" ' My brave companions : stern necessity compels 
me to employ the few moments afforded by this 

105 probably brief cessation of conflict, in making known 
to you the most interesting, yet the most solemn, 
melancholy, and unwelcome fact that humanity can 
realize. . . . Our fate is sealed. Within a very few 
days, perhaps a very few hours, we must all be in 

110 eternity ! I have deceived you long by the promise 
of help; but I crave your pardon, hoping that after 
hearing my explanation you will not only regard my 
conduct as pardonable, but heartily sympathize with 
me in my extreme necessity. ... I have continually 

115 received the strongest assurances of help from home. 
Every letter from the Council, and every one that I 
have seen from individuals at home, has teemed with 
assurances that our people were ready, willing, and 
anxious to come to our relief. . . . These assurances 

whom he remained some weeks, healing the festered wounds 
made on his legs by the cactus-thorns during the days of his 
fearful journey. The account from which these extracts are 
taken is contributed to the Texas Almanac for 1873, by W. P. 
Zuber, and his mother, Mary Ann Zuber. 



PROSE 111 

I received as facts. ... In the honest and simple 120 
confidence of my heart I have transmitted to you 
these promises of help and my confident hope of 
success. But the promised help has not come, and 
our hopes are not to be realized. I have evidently 
confided too much in the promises of our friends; 125 
but let us not be in haste to censure them. . . . 
Our friends were evidently not informed of our 
perilous condition in time to save us. Doubtless 
they would have been here by this time had they 
expected any considerable force of the enemy. ... 130 
My calls on Colonel Fannin remain unanswered, 
and my messengers have not returned. The prob- 
abilities are that his whole command has fallen 
into the hands of the enemy, or been cut to pieces, 
and that our couriers have been cut off. [So does the 135 
brave, simple soul refuse to feel any bitterness in the 
hour of death.l . . . Then we must die. . . . Our 
business is not to make a fruitless effort to save our 
lives, but to choose the manner of our death. But 
three modes are presented to us; let us choose that 140 
by which we may best serve our country. Shall we 
surrender and be deliberately shot without taking the 
life of a single enemy ? Shall we try to cut our way 
out through the Mexican ranks and be butchered 
before we can kill twenty of our adversaries ? I am 145 
opposed to either method. . . . Let us resolve to 
withstand our adversaries to the last, and at each 
advance to kill as many of them as possible. And 
when at last they shall storm our fortress, let us kill 
them as they come ! kill them as they scale our wall ! iso. 
kill them as they leap within ! kill them as they raise 



112 SELECTIONS FROM SIDNEY LANIER 

their weapons and as they use them ! kill them as 
they kill our companions ! and continue to kill them 
as long as one of us shall remain alive ! . . . But I 

155 leave every man to his own choice. Should any man 
prefer to surrender ... or to attempt an escape 
... he is at liberty to do so. My own choice is to 
stay in the fort and die for my country, fighting as 
long as breath shall remain in my body. This will I 

160 do, even if you leave me alone. Do as you think 
best; but no man can die with me without afford- 
ing me comfort in the hour of death ! ' 

" Colonel Travis then drew his sword, and with its 
point traced a line upon the ground extending from 

165 the right to the left of the file. Then, resuming his 
position in front of the centre, he said, ' I now want 
every man who is determined to stay here and die 
with me to come across this line. Who will be first ? 
March ! ' The first respondent was Tapley Holland, 

170 who leaped the line at a bound, exclaiming, 'I am 
ready to die for my country ! ' His example was in- 
stantly followed by every man in the file with the 
exception of Rose. . . . Every sick man that could 
walk, arose from his bunk and tottered across the 

175 line. Colonel Bowie, who could not leave his bed, 
said, ' Boys, I am not able to come to you, but I wish 
some of you would be so kind as to remove my cot 
over there.' Four men instantly ran to the cot, and 
each lifting a corner, carried it across the line. Then 

180 every sick man that could not walk made the same 

request, and had his bunk removed in the same way. 

"Rose, too, was deeply affected, but differently 

from his companions. He stood till every man but 



PROSE 113 

himself had crossed the line. ... He sank upon the 
ground, covered his face, and yielded to his own re- iss 
flections. ... A bright idea came to his relief; he 
spoke the Mexican dialect very fluently, and could 
he once get safely out of the fort, he might easily 
pass for a Mexican and effect an escape. . . . He di- 
rected a searching glance at the cot of Colonel Bowie, loo 
. . . Colonel David Crockett was leaning over the 
cot, conversing with its occupant in an undertone. 
After a few seconds Bowie looked at Rose and said, 
'You seem not to be willing to die with us. Rose.* 
*No,' said Rose; 'I am not prepared to die, and 195 
shall not do so if I can avoid it.' Then Crockett also 
looked at him, and said, 'You may as well conclude 
to die with us, old man, for escape is impossible.' 
Rose made no reply, but looked at the top of the wall. 
*I have often done worse than to climb that wall,' 200 
thought he. Suiting the action to the thought, he 
sprang up, seized his wallet of unwashed clothes, and 
ascended the wall. Standing on its top, he looked 
down within to take a last view of his dying friends. 
They were all now in motion, but what they were 205 
doing he heeded not; overpowered by his feelings, he 
looked away and saw them no more. . . . He threw 
down his wallet and leaped after it. . . . He took 
the road which led down the river around a bend to 
the ford, and through the town by the church. He 210 
waded the river at the ford and passed through the 
town. He saw no person . . . but the doors were all 
closed, and San Antonio appeared as a deserted city. 
"After passing through the town he turned down 
the river. A stillness as of death prevailed. When 215 



114 SELECTIONS FROM SIDNEY LANIER 

he had gone about a quarter of a mile below the 
town, his ears were saluted by the thunder of the 
bombardment, which was then renewed. That 
thunder continued to remind him that his friends 

220 were true to their cause, by a continual roar with but 

slight intervals until a little before sunrise on the 

morning of the 6th, when it ceased and he heard it no 

more. " ^ 

And well may it "cease" on that morning of that 

225 6th; for after that thrilling 3d the siege goes on, 
the enemy furious, the Texans replying calmly and 
slowly. Finally Santa Ana determines to storm. 
Some hours before daylight on the morning of the 
6th the Mexican infantry, provided with scaling- 

230 ladders, and backed by the cavalry to keep them 
up to the work, surround the doomed fort. At 
daylight they advance and plant their ladders, 
but give back under a deadly fire from the Tex- 
ans. They advance again, and again retreat. A 

235 third time — Santa Ana threatening and coaxing by 
turns — they plant their ladders. Now they mount 
the walls. The Texans are overwhelmed by sheer 
weight of numbers and exhaustion of continued 
watching and fighting. The Mexicans swarm into 

240 the fort. The Texans club their guns; one by one 
they fall fighting — now Travis yonder by the west- 

1 Rose succeeded in making his escape, and reached the 
house of the Zubers, as before stated, in fearful condition. 
After remaining here some weeks, he started for his home in 
Nacogdoches, but on the way his thorn-wounds became in- 
flamed anew, and when he reached home "his friends thought 
that he could not live many months." This was "the last" 
that the Zubers "heard of him." 



PROSE 115 

ern wall, now Crockett here in the angle of the 
church-wall, now Bowie butchered and mutilated 
in his sick-cot, breathe quick and pass away; and 
presently every Texan lies dead, while there in 245 
horrid heaps are stretched five hundred and twenty- 
one dead Mexicans and as many more wounded ! 
Of the human beings that were in the fort five re- 
main alive: Mrs, Dickinson and her child, Colonel 
Travis's negro-servant, and two Mexican women. 250 
The conquerors endeavor to get some more revenge 
out of the dead, and close the scene with raking to- 
gether the bodies of the Texans, amid insults, and 
burning them. 

The town did not long remain in the hands of the 255 
Mexicans, Events followed each other rapidly until 
the battle of San Jacinto, after which the dejected 
Santa Ana wrote his famous letter of captivity under 
the tree, which for a time relieved the soil of Texas 
from hostile footsteps. San Antonio was neverthe- 260 
less not free from bloodshed, though beginning to 
drive a sharp trade with Mexico and to make those 
approaches toward the peaceful arts which neces- 
sarily accompany trade. The Indians kept life from 
stagnating, and in the year 1840 occurred a bloody 265 
battle with them in the very midst of the town. 
Certain Camanche chiefs, pending negotiations for 
a treaty of peace, had promised to bring in all the 
captives they had, and on the 19th of ]\Iarch, 1840, 
met the Texan Commissioners in the Council-house 270 
in San Antonio to redeem their promise. Leaving 
twenty warriors and thirty-two women and children 
outside, twelve chiefs entered the council-room and 



116 SELECTIONS FROM SIDNEY LANIER 

presented the only captive they had brought — a little 

275 white girl — declaring that they had no others. 

This statement the little girl pronounced false, 
asserting that it was made solely for the purpose of 
extorting greater ransoms, and that she had but re- 
cently seen other captives in their camp. An awk- 

280 ward pause followed. Presently one of the chiefs | 
inquired, How the Commissioners liked it. By way 
of reply, the company of Captain Howard, who had 
been sent for, filed into the room, and the Indians 
were told that they would be held prisoners until 

285 they should send some of their party outside after 
the rest of the captives. The Commissioners then 
rose and left the room. 

As they were in the act of leaving, however, one of 
the Indian chiefs attempted to rush through the door, 

290 and being confronted by the sentinel, stabbed him. 
Seeing the sentinel hurt, and Captain Howard also 
stabbed, the other chiefs sprang forward with knives 
and bows and arrows, and the fight raged until they 
were all killed. Meantime the warriors outside be- 

295 gan to fight, and engaged the company of Captain 
Read ; but, taking shelter in a stone-house, were sur- 
rounded and killed. Still another detachment of the 
Indians managed to continue the fight until they 
had reached the other side of the river, when they 

300 were finally despatched. Thirty-two Indian war- 
riors and five Indian women and children were slain, 
and the rest of the women and children were made 
prisoners. The savages fought desperately, for seven 
Texans were killed and eight wounded. 



PROSE 117 



THE STORY OF A PROVERB 

Once upon a time — if my memory serves me cor- 
rectly, it was in the year 6% — His Intensely-Serene- 
and-Altogether-Perfectly-Astounding Highness the 
King of Nimporte was reclining in his royal palace. 
The casual observer (though it must be said that 6 
casual observers were as rigidly excluded from the 
palace of Nimporte as if they had been tramps) might 
easily have noticed that his majesty was displeased. 

The fact is, if his majesty had been a little boy, he 
would have been whipped and sent to bed for the lo 
sulks; but even during this early period of which I 
am writing, the strangeness of things had reached 
such a pitch that in the very moment at which this 
story opens the King of Nimporte arose from his 
couch, seized by the shoulders his grand vizier (who is 
was not at all in the sulks, but was endeavoring, as 
best he could, to smile from the crown of his head to 
the soles of his feet), and kicked him down-stairs. 

As the grand vizier reached the lowest step in the 
course of his tumble, a courier covered with dust was 20 
in the act of putting his foot upon the same. But 
the force of the grand vizier's fall was such as to 
knock both the courier's legs from under him; and 
as, in the meantime, the grand vizier had wildly 
clasped his arms around the courier's body, to arrest 25 
his own descent, the result was such a miscellaneous 
rolling of the two men, that for a moment no one was 
able to distinguish which legs belonged to the grand 
vizier and which to the courier. 



118 SELECTIONS FROM SIDNEY LANIER 

30 " Has she arrived ? " asked the grand vizier, as soon 
as his breath came. 

"Yes," said the courier, already hastening up the 
stairs. 

At this magic word, the grand vizier again threw 

35 his arms around the courier, kissed him, released 
him, whirled himself about like a teetotum, leaped 
into the air and cracked his heels thrice before again 
touching the earth, and said : 

"Allah be praised! Perhaps now we shall have 

40 some peace in the palace." 

In truth, the King of Nimporte had been waiting 
two hours for his bride, whom he had never seen; 
for, according to custom, one of his great lords had 
been sent to the court of the bride's father, where he 

45 had married her by proxy for his royal master, and 
whence he was now conducting her to the palace. 
For two hours the King of Nimporte had been wait- 
ing for a courier to arrive and announce to him that 
the cavalcade was on its last day's march over the 

50 plain, and was fast approaching the city. 

As soon as the courier had delivered his message, 
the king kicked him down-stairs (i'or not arriving 
sooner, his majesty incidentally remarked), and 
ordered the grand vizier to cause that a strip of velvet 

65 carpet should be laid from the front door of the grand 
palace, extending a half-mile down the street in the 
direction of the road by which the cavalcade was 
approaching; adding that it was his royal intention 
to walk this distance, for the purpose of giving his 

60 bride a more honorable reception than any bride of 
any king of Nimporte had ever before received. 



PROSE 119 

The grand vizier lost no time in carrying out his 
instructions, and in a short time the king appeared 
stepping along the carpet in the stateliest manner, 
followed by a vast and glittering retinue of courtiers, 65 
and encompassed by multitudes of citizens who had 
crowded to see the pageant. 

As the king, bareheaded and barefooted (for at this 
time everybody went barefoot in Nimporte), ap- 
proached the end of the carpet, he caught sight of his 7o 
bride, who was but a few yards distant on her milk- 
white palfrey. 

Her appearance was so ravishingly beautiful, that 
the king seemed at first dazed, like a man who has 
looked at the sun; but, quickly recovering his wits, 75 
he threw himself forward, in the ardor of his admira- 
tion, with the intention of running to his bride and 
dropping on one knee at her stirrup, while he would 
gaze into her face with adoring humility. And as 
the king rushed forward with this impulse, the pop- so 
ulace cheered with the wildest enthusiasm at finding 
him thus capable of the feelings of an ordinary man. 

But in an instant a scene of the wildest commo- 
tion ensued. At the very first step which the king 
took beyond the end of the carpet, his face grew sud- ss 
denly white, and, with a loud cry of pain, he fell 
fainting to the earth. He was immediately sur- 
rounded by the anxious courtiers; and the court 
physician, after feeling his pulse for several minutes, 
and inquiring very carefully of the grand vizier 90 
whether his majesty had on that day eaten any green 
fruit, was in the act of announcing that it was a vio- 
lent attack of a very Greek disease indeed, when the 



120 SELECTIONS FROM SIDNEY LANIER 

bride (who had dismounted and run to her royal lord 
96 with wifely devotion) called the attention of the ex- 
cited courtiers to his majesty's left great toe. It was 
immediately discovered that, in his first precipitate 
step from off the carpet to the bare ground, his 
majesty had set his foot upon a very rugged pebble, 

100 the effect of which upon tender feet, accustomed to 
nothing but velvet, had caused him to swoon with 
pain. 

As soon as the King of Nimporte opened his eyes 
in his own palace, where he had been quickly con- 

105 veyed and ministered to by the bride, he called his 
trembling grand vizier and inquired to whom be- 
longed the houses at that portion of the street where 
his unfortunate accident had occurred. Upon learn- 
ing the names of these unhappy property-owners, he 

110 instantly ordered that they and their entire kindred 
should be beheaded, and the adjacent houses burned 
for the length of a quarter of a mile. 

The king further instructed the grand vizier that 
he should instantly convene the cabinet of councillors 

115 and devise with them some means of covering the 
whole earth with leather, in order that all possibility 
of such accidents to the kings of Nimporte might be 
completely prevented — adding, that if the cabinet 
should fail, not only in devising the plan, but in ac- 

120 tually carrying it out within the next three days, then 
the whole body of councillors should be executed on 
the very spot where the king's foot was bruised. 

Then the king kissed his bride, and was very 
happy. 

126 But the grand vizier, having communicated these 



PROSE 121 

instructions to his colleagues of the cabinet — 
namely, the postmaster-general, the praetor, the 
sachem, and the three Scribes-and-Pharisees — pro- 
ceeded to his own home, and consulted his wife, 
whose advice he was accustomed to follow with the i30 
utmost faithfulness. After thinking steadily for two 
days and nights, on the morning of the third day the 
grand vizier's wife advised him to pluck out his 
beard, to tear up his garments, and to make his will; 
declaring that she could not, upon the most mature 135 
deliberation, conceive of any course more appropri- 
ate to the circumstances. 

The grand vizier was in the act of separating his 
last pair of bag-trousers into very minute strips 
indeed, when a knocking at the door arrested his i40 
hand, and in a moment afterward the footman 
ushered in a young man of very sickly complexion, 
attired in the seediest possible manner. The grand 
vizier immediately recognized him as a person well 
known about Nimporte for a sort of loafer, given to 145 
mooning about the clover-fields, and to meditating 
upon things in general, but not commonly regarded 
as ever likely to set a river on fire. 

"O grand vizier !" said this young person, "I have 
come to say that if you will procure the attendance i50 
of the king and court to-morrow morning at eleven 
o'clock in front of the palace, I will cover the whole 
earth with leather for his majesty in five minutes." 

Then the grand vizier arose in the quietest possible 
manner, and kicked the young person down the back- 155 
stairs; and when he had reached the bottom stair, 
the grand vizier tenderly lifted him in his arms and 



122 SELECTIONS FROM SIDNEY LANIER 

carried him back to the upper landing, and then 
kicked him down the front-stairs — in fact, quite out 

160 of the front gate. 

Having accompHshed these matters satisfactorily, 
the grand vizier returned with a much lighter heart, 
and completed a draft of his last will and testament 
for his lawyer, who was to call at eleven. 

165 Punctually at the appointed time — being exactly 
three days from the hour when the grand vizier re- 
ceived his instructions — the King of Nimporte and 
all his court, together with a great mass of citizens, 
assembled at the scene of the accident to witness the 

170 decapitation of the entire cabinet. The headsman 
had previously arranged his apparatus; and pres- 
ently the six unfortunate wise men were seen stand- 
ing with hands tied behind, and with heads bent for- i 
ward meekly over the six blocks in a row. 

173 The executioner advanced and lifted a long and 
glittering sword. He was in the act of bringing it 
down with terrific force upon the neck of the grand 
vizier, when a stir was observed in the crowd, which 
quickly increased to a commotion so great that the 

180 king raised his hand and bade the executioner wait 

until he could ascertain the, cause of the disturbance. 

In a moment more, the young person appeared in 

the open space which had been reserved for the 

court, and with a mingled air of proud self-confidence 

1S5 and of shrinking reserve, made his obeisance before 
the king. 

"O king of the whole earth !" he said, "if within 
the next five minutes I shall have covered the whole 
earth with leather for your majesty, will your gra- 



PROSE 123 

cious highness remit the sentence which has been loo 
pronounced upon the wise men of the cabinet?" 

It was impossible for the king to refuse. 

"Will your majesty then be kind enough to ad- 
vance your right foot ? " 

The young person kneeled, and drawing a bundle 195 
from his bosom, for a moment manipulated the 
king's right foot in a manner which the courtiers 
could not very well understand. 

"Will your majesty now advance your majesty's 
left foot?" said the young person again; and again 200 
he manipulated. 

"Will your majesty now walk forth upon the 
stones?" said the young person; and his majesty 
walked forth upon the stones. 

"Will your majesty now answer: If your majesty 205 
should walk over the entire globe, would not your 
majesty's feet find leather betw^een them and the 
earth the whole way ? " 

"It is true," said his majesty. 

"Will your majesty further answer: Is not the 210 
whole earth, so far as your majesty is concerned, now 
covered with leather ? " 

" It is true," said his majesty. 

"O king of the whole earth, what is it?" cried the 
whole court in one breath. 215 

"In fact, my lords and gentlemen," said the king, 
" I have on, what has never been known in the whole 
great kingdom of Nimporte until this moment, a 
pair of — of " 

And here the king looked inquiringly at the young 220 
person. 



124 SELECTIONS FROM SIDNEY LANIER 

"Let us call them — shoes," said the young person. 

Then the king, walking to and fro over the pebbles 

with the greatest comfort and security, looked inquir- 

225 ingly at him. "Who are you?" asked his majesty. 

"I belong," said the young person, "to the tribe 
of the poets — who make the earth tolerable for the 
feet of man." 

Then the king turned to his cabinet, and pacing 
230 along in front of the six blocks, pointed to his feet, 
and inquired: 

" What do you think of this invention ? " 

"I do not like it; I cannot understand it; I think 
the part of wisdom is always to reject the unintelli- 
235 gible; I therefore advise your majesty to refuse it," 
said the grand vizier, who was really so piqued that 
he would much rather have been beheaded than live 
to see the triumph of the young person whom he had 
kicked down both pairs of stairs. 
240 It is worthy of note, however, that when the grand 
vizier found himself in his own apartments, alive and 
safe, he gave a great leap into the air and whirled him- 
self with joy, as on a former occasion. 

The postmaster-general also signified his disap- 
245 proval. "I do not like it," said he; "they are not 
rights and lefts; I therefore advise your majesty to 
refuse the invention." 

The praetor was like minded. " It will not do," he 
said; "it is clearly obnoxious to the overwhelming 
250 objection that there is absolutely nothing objection- 
able about it; in my judgment, this should be suf- 
ficient to authorize your majesty's prompt refusal of 
the expedient and the decapitation of the inventor." 



PROSE 125 

"Moreover," added the sachem, "if your majesty 
once wears them, then every man, woman and child 255 
will desire to have his, her, and its whole earth cov- 
ered with leather; which will create such a demand 
for hides, that there will shortly be not a bullock or a 
cow in your majesty's dominions; if your majesty 
will but contemplate the state of this kingdom with- 260 
out beef and butter — there seems no more room for 
argument!" 

"But these objections," cried the three Scribes- 
and-Pharisees, " although powerful enough in them- 
selves, king of the whole earth, have not yet 265 
touched the most heinous fault of this inventor, and 
that is, that there is no reserved force about this in- 
vention; the young person has actually done the very 
best he could in the most candid manner; this is 
clearly in violation of the rules of art — witness the 270 
artistic restraint of our own behavior in this matter ! " 

Then the King of Nimporte said : " O wise men of 
my former cabinet, your wisdom seems folly; I will 
rather betake me to the counsels of the poet, and he 
shall be my sole adviser for the future; as for you, 275 
live — but live in shame for the littleness of your 
souls ! " And he dismissed them from his presence in 
disgrace. 

It was then that the King of Nimporte uttered 
that proverb which has since become so famous 280 
among the Persians ; for, turning away to his palace, 
with his bride on one arm and the young person on 
the other, he said: 

" To him who wears a shoe, it is as if the whole earth 
was covered with leather." 285 



126 SELECTIONS FROM SIDNEY LANIER 

THE LEGEND OF ST. LEONOR 

Once upon a time St. Leonor, with sixty disciples, 
came to an inhospitable region at the mouth of the 
Ranee in Armorica, and settled. Their food was of 
the rudest description, being only what they could 
5 obtain from the woods and waters. One day the 
good Bishop Leonor, while praying, happened to see a 
small bird carrying a grain of wheat in its beak. He 
immediately set a monk to watching the bird, with 
instructions to follow it when it flew away. The 

10 monk followed the bird, and was led to a place in the 
forest, where he found several stalks of wheat grow- 
ing. This was probably the last relic of some an- 
cient Gallo-Roman farm. St. Leonor, on learning 
the news, was overjoyed. " We must clear the forest 

15 and cultivate the ground," he exclaimed, and imme- 
diately put the sixty at work. Now the work was 
hard, and the sixty disciples groaned with tribula- 
tion as they toiled and sweated over the stubborn 
oaks and the briery underbrush. But when they 

20 came to plough, the labor seemed beyond all human 
endurance. I do not know how they ploughed; 
but it is fair to suspect that they had nothing better 
than forked branches of the gnarly oaks with sharp- 
ened points for ploughs, and as there is no mention 

25 of cattle in the legend, the presumption is fair that 
these good brothers hitched themselves to the 
plough and pulled. This presumption is strength- 
ened by the circumstance that, in a short time, the 
sixty rebelled outright. They begged the Bishop to 

30 abandon agriculture and go away from that place. 



PROSE 127 

But the stout old father would not recede. No; 
we must get into beneficial relations with this soil. 
Then the monks assembled together by night, and, 
having compared opinions, found it the sense of the 
meeting that they should leave the very next day, 35 
even at pain of the abandonment of the Bishop. 
So, next morning, when they were about to go, be- 
hold ! a miracle stopped them : twelve magnificent 
stags marched proudly out of the forest and stood by 
the ploughs, as if inviting the yoke. The monks 40 
seized the opportunity. They harnessed the stags, 
and these diligently drew the ploughs all that day. 
When the day's work was done, and the stags were 
loosed from harness, they retired into the forest. 
But next morning the faithful wild creatures again 45 
made their appearance and submitted their royal 
necks to the yoke. Five weeks and three days did 
these animals labor for the brethren. 

When the ground was thoroughly prepared, the 
Bishop pronounced his blessing upon the stags, and 50 
they passed quietly back into the recesses of the 
forest. Then the Bishop sowed his wheat, and that 
field was the father of a thousand other wheat-fields, 
and of a thousand other homes, with all the ameni- 
ties and sweetnesses which are implied in that rav- 65 
ishing word. 

Now, here is the point of this legend in this place. 
Of course, the twelve stags did not appear from the 
forest and plough; and yet the story is true. The 
thing which actually happened was that the Bishop go 
Leonor, by his intelligence, foresight, practical wis- 
dom, and faithful perseverance, reclaimed a piece 



128 SELECTIONS FROM SIDNEY LANIER 

of stubborn and impracticable ground, and made it 
good, arable soil. (It is also probable that the story 

65 was immediately suggested by the retaming of 
cattle which the ancient Gallo-Roman people had 
allowed to run wild. The bishops did this some- 
times.) This was a practical enough thing; it 
is being done every day; it was just as prosaic as any 

70 commercial transaction. 

But, mark you, the people — for this legend is a 
pure product of the popular imagination of Brittany 
— the people who came after saw how the prosaic 
wheat-field of the Bishop had flowered into the 

75 poetical happiness of the rude and wild inhabitants 
who began to gather about his wheat-patch, and to 
plant fields and build homes of their own ; and, seeing 
that the prose had actually become thus poetic, the 
people (who love to tell things as they really are, 

80 and in their deeper relations) — the people have re- 
lated it in terms of poetry. The bird and the stags 
are terms of poetry. But, notice again, that these 
are not silly, poetic licenses; they are not merely a 
child's embellishments of a story; the bird and the 

85 stags are not real ; but they are true. 

For what do they mean ? They mean the powers 
of Nature. They mean, as here inserted, that if a 
man go forth, sure of his mission, fervently loving his 
fellow-men, working for their benefit; if he adhere 

90 to his mission through good and evil report; if he 
resist all endeavor to turn him from it, and faith- 
fully stand to his purpose — presently he will suc- 
ceed; for the powers of Nature will come forth out 
of the recesses of the universe and offer themselves 



PROSE 129 

as draught-animals to his plough. The popular 95 
legend is merely an affirmation in concrete forms of 
this principle; the people, who are all poets, know 
this truth. We moderns, indeed — we, whose prac- 
tical experiences beggar the wildest dreams of 
antiquity — have seen a wilder (beast) creature than 100 
a stag come out of the woods for a faithful man. We 
have seen steam come and plough the seas for Ful- 
ton; we have seen lightning come and plough the 
wastes of space for Franklin and Morse. 



BOB: THE STORY OF OUR MOCKING-BIRD 

Not that his name ought to be Bob at all. In 
respect of his behavior during a certain trying period 
which I am presently to recount, he ought to be 
called Sir Philip Sidney; yet, by virtue of his con- 
duct in another very troublesome business which I 5 
will relate, he has equal claim to be known as Don 
Quixote de la Mancha; while, in consideration that 
he is the Voice of his whole race, singing the passions 
of all his fellows better than anyone could sing his 
own, he is clearly entitled to be named William 10 
Shakespeare. 

For Bob is our mocking-bird. He fell to us out 
of the top of a certain great pine in a certain small 
city on the sea-coast of Georgia. In this tree and a 
host of his lordly fellows which tower over that little 15 
city, the mocking-birds abound in unusual numbers. 
They love the prodigious masses of the leaves, and 
the generous breezes from the neighboring Gulf 



130 SELECTIONS FROM SIDNEY LANIER 

Stream, and, most of all, the infinite flood of the 

20 sunlight, which is so rich and cordial that it will 
make even a man lift his head toward the sky, as a 
mocking-bird lifts his beak, and try to sing some- 
thing or other. 

About three years ago, in a sandy road which 

25 skirts a grove of such tall pines, a wayfarer found 
Bob lying in a lump. It could not have been more 
than a few days since he was no bird at all, only an 
egg with possibilities. The finder brought him to 
our fence and turned him over to a young man who 

30 had done us the honor to come out of a strange 
country and live at our house about sLx years before. 
Gladly received by this last. Bob was brought 
within, and family discussions were held. He could 
not be put back into a tree: the hawks would have 

36 had him in an hour. The original nest was not to be 
found. We struggled hard against committing the 
crime — as we had always considered it — of caging a 
bird. But finally it became plain that there was 
no other resource. In fact, we were obliged to rec- 

40 ognize that he had come to us from the hand of 
Providence; and, though we are among the most 
steady-going democrats of this Republic, we were yet 
sufficiently acquainted with the etiquette of courts 
to know that one does not refuse the gift of The 

45 King. 

Dimly hoping, therefore, that we might see our 
way clear to devise some means of giving Bob an 
education that would fit him for a forester, we ar- 
ranged suitable accommodations for him, and he was 

50 tended with motherly care. 



PROSE 131 

He repaid our attentions from the very beginning. 
He immediately began to pick up in flesh and to 
increase the volume of his rudimentary feathers. 
Soon he commenced to call for his food as lustily as 
any spoiled child. When it was brought he would 55 
throw his head back and open his yellow-lined beak 
to a width which no one would credit who did not 
see it. Into this enormous cavity, which seemed 
almost larger than the bird, his protectress would 
thrust — and the more vigorously the better he eo 
seemed to like it — ball after ball of the yolk of hard- 
boiled egg mashed up with Irish potato. 

How, from this dry compound which was his only 
fare, except an occasional worm off the rose-bushes, 
Bob could have wrought the surprising nobleness of 65 
spirit which he displayed about six weeks after he 
came to us, is a matter which I do not believe I can 
account for. I refer to the occasion when he fairly 
earned the title of Sir Philip Sidney. A short time 
after he became our guest a couple of other fledglings 70 
were brought and placed in his cage. One of these 
soon died, but the other continued for some time 
longer to drag out a drooping existence. One day, 
when Bob was about six weeks old, his usual ration 
had been delayed, owing to the pressure of other 75 
duties upon his attendant. He was not slow to 
make this circumstance known by all the language 
available to him. He was very hungry indeed, and 
was squealing with every appearance of entreaty 
and of indignation when at last the lady of the house so 
was able to bring him his breakfast. He scrambled 
to the bars of the cage — which his feeble companion 



132 SELECTIONS FROM SIDNEY LANIER 

was unable to do — took the proffered ball of egg-and- 
potato fiercely in his beak, and then, instead of swal- 

85 lowing it, deliberately flapped back to his sick guest 
in the corner and gave him the whole of it without 
tasting a morsel. 

Now when Sir Philip Sidney was being carried off 
the battle-field of Zutphen, with a fearful wound in 

90 his thigh, he became very thirsty and begged for 
water. As the cup was handed him, a dying soldier 
who lay near cast upon it a look of great longing. 
This Sidney observed; refusing the cup, he ordered 
that it should be handed to the soldier, saying, " His 

95 necessity is greater than mine." 

A mocking-bird is called Bob just as a goat is called 
Billy or Nan, as a parrot is called Poll, as a squirrel 
is called Bunny, or as a cat is called Pussy or Tomf 
In spite of the suggestions forced upon us by the 

100 similarity of his behavior to that of the sweet young 
gentleman of Zutphen, our bird continued to beas 
the common appellation of his race, and no efforts 
on the part of those who believe in the fitness of 
things have availed to change the habits of Bob's 

105 friends in this particular. Bob he was, is, and will 
probably remain. 

Perhaps under a weightier title he would not have 
thriven so prosperously. His growth was amazing 
in body and in mind. By the time he was two 

110 months old he already showed that he was going to be 
a singer. About this period certain little feeble trills , 
and experimental whistles began to vary the monot- 
ony of his absurd squeals and chirrups. The musical 
business and the marvellous work of feathering him- i 



PROSE 133 

self occupied his thoughts continually. I cannot but us 
suppose that he superintended the disposition of the 
black, white, and gray markings on his wings and his 
tail as they successively appeared : he certainly man- 
ufactured the pigments with which those colors were 
laid on somewhere within himself — and all out of 120 
egg-and-potato. How he ever got the idea of ar- 
ranging his feather-characteristics exactly as those 
of all other male mocking-birds are arranged, is more 
than I know. It is equally beyond me to conceive 
why he did not — while he was about it — exert his 125 
individuality to the extent of some little peculiar 
black dot or white stripe whereby he could at least 
tell himself from any other bird. His failure to 
attend to this last matter was afterward the cause 
of a great battle from which Bob would have 130 
emerged in a plight as ludicrous as any of Don 
Quixote's — considering the harmless and unsub- 
stantial nature of his antagonist — had not this view 
of his behavior been changed by the courage and 
spirit with which he engaged his enemy, the gal- 135 
lantry with which he continued the fight, and the 
good faithful blood which he shed while it lasted. 
In all these particulars his battle fairly rivalled any 
encounter of the much-bruised Knight of La ]\Iancha. 

He was about a year old when it happened, and i40 
the fight took place a long way from his native 
heath. He was spending the summer at a pleasant 
country home in Pennsylvania. He had appeared 
to take just as much delight in the clover-fields and 
mansion-studded hills of this lovely region as in the 145 
lonesome forests and sandy levels of his native land. 



134 SELECTIONS FROM SIDNEY LANIER 

He had sung, and sung: even in his dreams at night? 
his sensitive little soul would often get quite too full 
and he would pour forth rapturous bursts of senti- 

150 ment at any time between twelve o'clock and day- 
break. If our health had been as little troubled by 
broken slumber as was his, these melodies in the 
late night would have been glorious; but there were 
some of us who had gone into the country specially 

155 to sleep; and we were finally driven to swing the 
sturdy songster high up in an outside porch at night, 
by an apparatus contrived with careful reference to 
cats. Several of these animals in the neighborhood 
had longed unspeakably for Bob ever since his ar- 

160 rival. We had seen them eying him from behind 
bushes and through windows, and had once res- 
cued him from one who had thrust a paw between 
the very bars of his cage. That cat was going to eat 
him, art and all, with no compunction in the world. 

165 His music seemed to make no more impression on 
cats than Keats's made on critics. If only some 
really discriminating person had been by, with a shot- 
gun, when The Quarterly thrust its paw into poor 
Endymion's cage ! 

170 One day at this country-house Bob had been let 
out of his cage and allowed to fly about the room. 
He had cut many antics, to the amusement of the 
company, when presently we left him to go down to 
dinner. What occurred afterward was very plainly 

175 told by circumstantial evidence when we returned. 
As soon as he was alone, he had availed himself of 
his unusual freedom to go exploring about the room. 
In the course of investigation he suddenly found him- 



PROSE 135 

self confronted by — It is impossible to say what he 
considered it. If he had been reared in the woods iso 
he would probably have regarded it as another 
mocking-bird — for it was his own image in the 
looking-glass of a bureau. But he had never seen 
any member of his race, except the forlorn little un- 
fledged specimen which he had fed at six weeks of iss 
age, and which bore no resemblance to this tall, gal- 
lant, bright-eyed figure in the mirror. He had thus 
had no opportunity to generalize his kind, and he 
knew nothing whatever of his own personal appear- 
ance except the partial hints he may have gained loo 
when he smoothed his feathers with his beak after 
his bath in the morning. It may therefore very well 
be that he took this sudden apparition for some 
Chima^a or dire monster which had taken advan- 
tage of the family's temporary absence to enter the 195 
room, with evil purpose. Bob immediately deter- 
mined to defend the premises. He flew at the in- 
vader, literally beak and claw. But beak and claw 
taking no hold upon the smooth glass, with each 
attack he slid struggling down to the foot of the 200 
mirror. Now it so happened that a pin-cushion lay 
at this point, which bristled not only with pins, but 
with needles which had been temporarily left in it, 
and which were nearly as sharp at the eye-ends as at 
the points. Upon these, Bob's poor claws came down 205 
with fury: he felt the wounds and saw the blood: 
both he attributed to the strokes of his enemy, and 
this roused him to new rage. In order to give addi- 
tional momentum to his onset he would retire to- 
ward the other side of the room and thence fly at the 210 



136 SELECTIONS FROM SIDNEY LANIER 

foe. Again and again he charged; and as many 
times slid down the smooth surface of the mirror and 
wounded himself upon the perilous pin-cushion. As 
I entered, being the first up from the table, he was 

215 in the act of fluttering down against the glass. The 
counterpane on the bed, the white dimity cover of 
the bureau, the pin-cushion, all bore the bloody 
resemblances of his feet in various places, and 
showed how many times he had sought distant 

220 points in order to give himself a running start. His 
heart was beating violently, and his feathers were 
ludicrously tousled. And all against the mere 
shadow of himself ! Never was there such a temp- 
tation for the head of a family to assemble his people 

225 and draw a prodigious moral. But better thoughts 
came: for, after all, was it not probable that the 
poor bird was defending — or at any rate believed he 
was defending — the rights and properties of his 
absent masters against a foe of unknown power? 

230 All the circumstances go to show that he made 
the attack with a faithful valor as reverent as that 
which steadied the lance of Don Quixote against the 
windmills. In after days, when his cage has been 
placed among the boughs of trees, he has not shown 

235 any warlike feelings against the robins and sparrows 
that passed about, but only a sincere friendly in- 
terest. 

At this present writing, Bob is the most elegant, 
trim, electric, persuasive, cunning, tender, coura- 

240 geous, artistic little dandy of a bird that mind can 
imagine. He does not confine himself to imitating 
the songs of his tribe. He is a creative artist. I 



PROSE 137 

was witness not long ago to the selection and adop- 
tion by him of a rudimentary whistle-language. Dur- 
ing an illness it fell to my lot to sleep in a room alone 245 
with Bob. In the early morning when a lady, to 
whom Bob is passionately attached, would make her 
appearance in the room, he would salute her with a 
certain joyful chirrup which appears to belong to 
him peculiarly. I have not heard it from any other 250 
bird. But sometimes the lady would merely open 
the door, make an inquiry, and then retire. It was 
now necessary for his artistic soul to find some form 
of expressing grief. For this purpose he selected a 
certain cry almost identical with that of the cow- 255 
bird — an indescribably plaintive, long-drawn, thin 
whistle. Day after day I heard him make use of 
these expressions. He had never done so before. 
The mournful one he would usually accompany, as 
soon as the door was shut, with a sidelong inquiring 260 
posture of the head, which was a clear repetition of 
the lover's Is she gone f Is she really gone f 

There is one particular in which Bob's habits 
cannot be recommended: He eats very often. In 
fact, if Bob should hire a cook it would be abso- 265 
lutely necessary for him to write down his hours for 
her guidance; and this writing would look very 
much like a time-table of the Pennsylvania, or the 
Hudson River, or the Old Colony Railroad. He 
would have to say : " Bridget will be kind enough to 270 
get me my breakfast at the following hours: 5, 5.20, 
5.40, 6, 6.15, 6.30, 6.45, 7, 7.20, 7.40, 8 (and so on, 
every fifteen or twenty minutes until 12 m.); my 
dinner at 12, 12.20, 12.40, 1, 1.15, 1.30 (and so on, 



138 SELECTIONS FROM SIDNEY LANIER 

275 every fifteen or twenty minutes until 6 p. m.); my 
supper is irregular, but I wish Bridget particularly 
to remember that I ahvays eat whenever I awake in 
the night, and that I usually awake four or five times 
between bed -time and daybreak." With all this 

280 eating, Bob never neglects to wipe his beak after 
each meal. This he does by drawing it quickly, 
three or four times on each side, against his perch. 

I never tire of watching his motions. There does 
not seem to be the least friction between any of the 

285 component parts of his system. They all work, give, 
play in and out, stretch, contract, and serve his de- 
sires generally with a smoothness and soft precision 
truly admirable. Merely to see him leap from his 
perch to the floor of his cage is to me a never-failing 

290 marvel. It is so instantaneous, and yet so quiet: 
clip, and he is down, with his head in the food-cup; 
I can compare it to nothing but the stroke of Fate. 
It is perhaps a strained association of the large with 
the small ; but when he suddenly leaps down in this 

295 instantaneous way, I always feel as if I suddenly 
heard the clip of the fatal shears. 

His list of songs is extensive. Perhaps it would 
have been much more so if his life had been in the 
woods, where he would have had the opportunity to 

300 hear the endlessly various calls of his race. So far 
as we can see, the stock of songs which he now sings 
must have been brought in his own mind out of the 
egg — or from some further source whereof we know 
nothing. He certainly never learned these calls; 

305 many of the birds of whom he gives perfect imitations 



PROSE 139 

have been always beyond his reach. He does not 
•apprehend readily a new set of tones. He has 
caught two or three musical phrases from hearing 
them whistled near him. No systematic attempt, 
however, has been made to teach him anything. 3io 
His procedure in learning these few tones was pecul- 
iar. He would not, on first hearing them, make any 
sign that he desired to retain them, beyond a certain 
air of attention in his posture. Upon repetition on a 
different day, his behavior was the same: there was 315 
no attempt at imitation. But some time afterward, 
quite unexpectedly, in the hilarious flow of his bird- 
songs, would appear a perfect reproduction of the 
whistled tones. Like a great artist he was rather 
above useless and amateurish efforts. He took 320 
things into his mind, turned them over, and, when 
he was perfectly sure of it, brought it forth with 
perfection and with unconcern. 

He has his little joke. His favorite response to 
the endearing terms of the lady whom he loves is to 325 
scold her. Of course he understands that she un- 
derstands his wit. He uses for this purpose the 
angry warning cry which mocking-birds are in the 
habit of employing to drive away intruders from their 
nests. At the same time he expresses his delight 330 
by a peculiar gesture which he always uses when 
pleased. He extends his right wing and stretches 
his leg along the inner surface of it as far as he is 
able. 

He has great capacities in the way of elongating 335 
and contracting himself. When he is curious or 
alarmed, he stretches his body until he seems in- 



140 SELECTIONS FROM SIDNEY LANIER 

credibly tall and of the size of his neck all the way. 
When he is cold, he makes himself into a perfectly 

340 round ball of feathers. 

I think I envy him most when he goes to sleep. 
He takes up one leg somewhere into his bosom, 
crooks the other a trifle, shortens his neck, closes his 
eyes — and it is done. He does not appear to hover 

345 a moment in the border-land between sleeping and 
waking, but hops over the line with the same superb 
decision with which he drops from his perch to the 
floor. I do not think he ever has anything on his 
mind after he closes his eyes. It is my belief that 

350 he never committed a sin of any sort in his whole life. 
There is but one time when he ever looks sad. This 
is during the season when his feathers fall. He is 
then unspeakably dejected. Never a note do we get 
from him until it is over. Nor can he be blamed. 

355 Last summer not only the usual loss took place, but 
every feather dropped from his tail. His dejection 
during this period was so extreme that we could not 
but believe he had some idea of his personal appear- 
ance under the disadvantage of no tail. This was 

360 so ludicrous that his most ardent lovers could 
scarcely behold him without a smile; and it ap- 
peared to cut him to the soul that he should excite 
such sentiments. 

But in a surprisingly short time his tail-feathers 

365 grew out again, the rest of his apparel reappeared 
fresh and new, and he lifted up his head; inso- 
much that whenever we wish to fill the house with a 
gay, confident, dashing, riotous, innocent, sparkling 
glory of jubilation, we have only to set Bob's cage 



PROSE 141 

where a spot of sunshine will fall on it. Ilis beads 37o 
of eyes glisten, his form grows intense, up goes his 
beak, and he is off. 

Finally we have sometimes discussed the question, 
is it better, on the whole, that Bob should have lived 
in a cage than in the wildwood ? There are conflict- 375 
ing opinions about it; but one of us is clear that it is. 
He argues that although there are many songs which 
are never heard, as there are many eggs which never 
hatch, yet the general end of a song is to be heard, as 
that of an egg is to be hatched. He further argues aso 
that Bob's life in his cage has been one long blessing 
to several people who stood in need of him; whereas 
in the woods, leaving aside the probability of hawks 
and bad boys, he would not have been likely to gain 
one appreciative listener for a single half-hour out of ass 
each year. And, as I have already mercifully re- 
leased you from several morals (continues this dis- 
putant) which I might have drawn from Bob, I am 
resolved that no power on earth shall prevent me 
from drawing this final one. We have heard much 390 
of "the privileges of genius," of "the right of the 
artist to live out his own existence free from the 
conventionalities of society," of "the un-morality of 
art," and the like. But I do protest that the greater 
the artist, and the more profound his piety toward 395 
the fellow-man for whom he passionately works, the 
readier will be his willingness to forego the privi- 
leges of genius and to cage himself in the conven- 
tionalities, even as the mocking-bird is caged. His 
struggle against these will, I admit, be the greatest: 400 



142 SELECTIONS FROM SIDNEY LANIER 

he will feel the bitterest sense of their uselessness in 
restraining him from wrong-doing. But, neverthe- 
less, one consideration will drive him to enter the 
door and get contentedly on his perch: his fellow- 

405 men, his fellow-men, these he can reach through the 
respectable bars of use and wont; in his wild thickets 
of lawlessness they would never hear him, or, hear- 
ing, would never listen. In truth, this is the sub- 
limest of self-denials, and none but a very great 

410 artist can compass it: to abandon the sweet, green 
forest of liberty, and live a whole life behind needless 
constraints, for the more perfect service of his fellow- 
men. 

AN ENGLISH HERO OF A THOUSAND 
YEARS AGO 

And now who was Byrhtnoth? The chronicler, 
overmuch given to recording investitures and 
deaths of bishops and abbots, tells us but little; 
but from the Book of Ely, an abbey founded by 
5 Byrhtnoth himself, we get glimpses of him, probably 
from the hand of one who had seen him face to face. 
He was Ealdorman — that is, lord or general — of the 
East Saxons, and one of the greatest nobles in 
England. "He was," says the monkish historian, 

10 "eloquent of speech, great of stature, exceeding 
strong, most skillful in war, and of courage that 
knew no fear. He spent his whole life in defending 
the liberty of his country, being altogether ab- 
sorbed in this one desire, and preferring to die rather 

15 than to leave one of its injuries unavenged. And all 



PROSE 143 

the leaders of the shires put their trust altogether in 
him." 

After telling of several of his victories, the his- 
torian comes to his last fight. His force was far in- 
ferior to that of the invaders, but he hastened to 20 
meet them without waiting for reinforcements, — a 
piece of rashness like that recorded in the poem, 
where, from mere excess of haughty courage, he dis- 
dains to defend the ford of Panta, and lets the 
vikings cross unmolested, a fatal hardihood which 25 
cost him the battle and his life. On his march 
hither he stopped at Ramsey Abbey, and asked for 
provisions for his men. The abbot said that it was 
not possible for him to feed so great a number, but, 
not to seem churlish, he would receive as his guests 30 
the ealdorman himself and seven others. Byrht- 
noth rejected the mean offer with scorn: "I cannot 
fight without them," he said, "and I will not eat 
without them," and so marched on to Ely, where 
Abbot Aelfsig bounteously entertained him and his 35 
force. "But the ealdorman, thinking that he had 
been burdensome to the abbey, would not leave it 
unrewarded; and on the following morning be- 
stowed upon it six rich manors, and promised nine 
more, with thirty marks of gold, and twenty pounds 40 
of silver, on the condition that if he fell in the battle 
his body should be brought and buried there. To 
this gift he also added two crosses of gold and two 
vestments richly adorned with gold and gems, and a 
pair of curiously wrought gloves. And so, com- 45 
mending himself to the prayers of the brethren, he 
went forth to meet the enemy. 



144 SELECTIONS FROM SIDNEY LANIER 

" When he met them, undeterred by the multitude 
of foes and the fewness of his own men, he attacked 

50 them at once, and for fourteen days fought with 
them daily. But on the last day, but few of his men 
being left alive, and perceiving that he was to die, he 
attacked them with none the less courage, and had 
almost put them to flight, when the Danes, taking 

65 heart from the small numbers of the English, formed 
their force into a wedge and threw themselves, upon 
them. Byrhtnoth was slain, fighting valiantly, and 
the enemy cut off his head and bare it with them to 
their own country." 

60 In both the metrical and unmetrical portions of 
the translation I have discarded the arrangement 
into lines as interfering with the objects in view; 
the poem showing clearly enough, by the plane of its 
thought, that it is a poem, though presented in what- 

65 ever forms of prose. 

The fragment begins with the last two words of 
some sentence, "brocen wurde" (was broken), and 
then proceeds as follows. 

Bade then (that is, Byrhtnoth bade) each warrior 

70 loose him his horse and drive it afar, and fare thus 
on to the hand-fight, hopeful of heart. 

Then straightway the stripling of Offa beheld that 
the earl would abide no cowardly thing; so there 
from his hand he let fly his falcon, beloved, away 

75 through the wood and strode to the battle, and man 
might know that never that youth would fail from 
the fight when once he fell to his weapon. Thereat 
Eadric was minded to stand by his ealdorman fast 
in the fight; forth 'gan bear his javelin foe-ward. 



PROSE 145 

manful in mood, whilever that he in his hands might so 
hold his buckler and broadsword; his vaunt he 
avouched with his deeds, that there he should fight 
in front of his prince. 

Then Byrhtnoth began to array him his warriors, 
rode and directed, counselled the fighters how they 85 
should stand and steadfastly hold to their places, 
showed them how shields should be gripped full hard 
with the hand, and bade them to fear not at all. 
When fairly his folk were formed he alighted in 
midst of the liegemen that loved him fondliest; 9o 
there full well he wist that his faithfullest hearth- 
fighters were. 

Then stood forth one from the vikings, strongly 
called, uttered his words, shouted the sea-rogues' 
threat to the earl where he stood on the adverse 95 
shore: "Me have the scathful seamen sent, and 
bidden me say that now must thou render rings for 
thy ransom, and better for you shall it be that ye 
buy off a battle with tribute than trust the hard- 
dealing of war. No need that we harm us, if only 100 
ye heed this message; firm will we fashion a peace 
with the gold. If thou that art richest wouldst 
ransom thy people, pay, for a peace, what the sea- 
men shall deem to be due; we will get us to ship 
with the gold, and fare off over the flood, and hold 105 
you acquit." 

Byrhtnoth cried to him, brandished the buclder, 
shook the slim ash, with words made utterance, 
wrathful and resolute, gave him his answer: "Hear- 
est thou, sea-rover, that which my folk sayeth? no 
Yes, we will render you tribute ... in javelins — 



146 SELECTIONS FROM SIDNEY LANIER 

poisonous point, and old-time blade — good weapons, 
yet forward you not in the fight. Herald of pirates, 
be herald once more; bear to thy people a bitterer 

115 message, — that here stands dauntless an earl with 
his warriors, will keep us this country, land of my 
lord. Prince Aethelred, — folk and field: the heathen 
shall perish in battle. Too base, methinketh, that 
ye with your gold should get you to ship all un- 
( 120 foughten with, now that so far ye have come to be in 
our land : never so soft shall he slink with your ; 
treasure away: us shall persuade both point and 
blade — grim game of war — ere we pay you for 
peace." 

126 Bade he then bear forward bucklers, and warriors 
go, till they all stood ranged on the bank that was 
east. Now there, for the water, might never a foe- 
man come to the other: there came flowing the flood 
after ebb-tide, mingled the streams: too long it 

130 seemed to them, ere that together the spears would 
come. 

[There stood they in their strength by Panta's 
stream, the East-Saxon force and the ship-host : nor 
might either of them harm the other, save when one 
135 fell by an arrow's flight. 

The tide outflowed; the pirates stood yare, many 
vikings wistful for war.] 

Bade them the Shelter-of-Men a war-hardened 
warrior hold him the bridge, who Wulfstan was 
140 hight, bold with his kinsmen. Cola's son; he smote 
with his spear the first man down that stepped over- 
bold on the bridge. There stood by Wulfstan war- 



PROSE 147 

riors dauntless, Maccus, and Aelfere, proud-souled 
twain; they recked not of fliglit at the ford, but 
stoutly strove with the foe what while they could 145 
wield their weapons. Then they encountered and 
eagerly saw how bitter the bridge-wards were; the 
hostile guests betook them to cunning: ordered to 
seize the ascents, and fare through the ford and lead 
up the line. Now the earl in his over-bold mood 150 
gave over-much land to the foe. There, while the 
warriors whist, fell Byrhthelm's bairn to calling over 
the waters cold : — 

"Now there is room for you, rush to us, warriors 
to warfare; God wot, only, which of us twain shall 155 
possess this place of the slaughter." 

Waded the war-wolves west over Panta, recked 
not of water, warrior vikings. There, o'er the w^ave 
they bore up their bucklers, the seamen lifted their 
shields to the land. In wait with his warriors, 160 
Byrhtnoth stood; he bade form the war-hedge of 
bucklers, and hold that ward firm to the foe. The 
fight was at hand, the glory of battle; the time was 
come for the falling of men that were doomed. 

There was a scream uphoven, ravens hovered, i65 
(and) the eagle sharp for carnage; on earth was 
clamor. 

They let from (their) hand (the) file-hard spears, 
(the) sharp-ground javelins, fly; bows were busy, 
shield caught spear-point, bitter was the battle-rush, i70 
warriors fell, on either hand warriors lay. Wounded 
was Wulfmaer, chose (his) bed of death, Byrhtnoth 's 
kinsman, his sister's son; he with bills was in pieces 
hewn. (But) there to the vikings was quittance 



148 SELECTIONS FROM SIDNEY LANIER 

175 made; heard I that Edward slew one sheerly with 
his sword, withheld not the swing (of it), that to 
him at feet fell (the) fated warrior. For that his 
prince said thanks to him — to his bower-thane — 
when he had time. So dutiful wrought (the) strong- 

180 souled fighters at battle, keenly considered who 
there might quickliest pierce with (his) weapon; 
carnage fell on earth. Stood (they) steadfast. 
Byrhtnoth heartened them, bade that each warrior 
mind him of battle that would fight out glory upon 

185 (the) Danes. 

Waded then (forward) (a) warrior tough, upheaved 
(his) weapon, shield at ward, and strode at the earl; 
as resolute went the earl to the carl : each of them to 
the other meant mischief. Sent then the sea-war- 

190 rior (a) Southern spear that the lord of warriors 
was wounded; he wrought then with his shield that 
the shaft burst in pieces and that spear broke that 
it sprang again. Angry-souled was the warrior; 
he with (his) spear stung the proud viking that gave 

195 him his wound. Prudent was the chieftain; he let 
his spear wade through the viking's neck; (his) 
hand guided it that it reached to the life of his dan- 
gerous foe. Then he suddenly shot another that 
his corselet burst; he was wounded in the breast 

200 through the ring-mail; at his heart stood the fatal 
spear-point. The earl was all the blither; laughed 
the valorous man, said thanks to the Creator for 
the day's work that the Lord gave him. 

Then some (one) of the warriors let fly from his 

205 hand a dart that it forthright passed through the 
noble thane of Aethelred. Then stood him beside 



PROSE 149 

an unwaxen warrior, a boy in fight; he full boldly 
plucked from the prince the bloody javelin (Wulf- 
stan's son, Wulfmaer the young); let the sharp 
(steel) fare back again; the spear-point pierced that 210 
he lay on the earth who before had grievously 
wounded the prince. Ran there a cunning warrior 
to the earl; he wished to plunder the prince of (his) 
treasures, armor and rings and adorned sword. 
Then Byrhtnoth drew from sheath his broad and 215 
brown-edged sword and smote on the (warrior's) 
corselet : (but) too soon one of the pirates prevented 
him; he maimed the arm of the earl; fell to the 
ground the yellow-hilted sword; he might not hold 
the hard blade, not wield (a) weapon. There never- 220 
theless some words spoke the hoary chieftain, heart- 
ened his warriors, bade the good comrades go for- 
ward; now no longer could he stand firm on (his) 
feet; he looked towards heaven: — 

"I thank Thee, Ruler of nations, for all the de- 225 
lights that were mine in the world; now do I own, 
mild Creator, most need that Thou give good to my 
ghost, whereby my soul may depart unto Thee in 
Thy kingdom. Prince of (the) angels, may it fare 
forth in peace; I am suppliant to Thee, that the 230 
hell-foes may humble it not." 

Then the heathen-men hewed him and both the 
chieftains that stood by him; Aelfnod and Wulf- 
maer lay slain; by the side of their prince they 
parted with life. 235 

And hereupon — as the next hundred and twenty- 
five lines go on to relate — there was like to be a most 



150 SELECTIONS FROM SIDNEY LANIER 

sorrowful panic on the English side. Several cow- 
ards fled: notably one Godric, who leaped upon 

240 Byrhtnoth's own horse, and so cast many into dead 
despair with the belief that they saw — what no man 
had ever dreamed he saw before — Byrthnoth in 
flight. But presently Aelfwine and Offa and other 
high-souled thanes heartened each other and led up 

245 their people, yet to no avail; and so thane after thane 
and man after man fell for the love of Byrhtnoth 
and of manhood, and no more would flee. 

Finally (at line 309, after which there are but six- 
teen lines more of the Fragment), we find Byrht- 

250 wold, an old warrior, sturdily bearing up his shield 
and waving his ash and exhorting the few that re- 
mained, beautifully crying: — 

" Soul be the scornfuller, heart be the bolder, front 
be the firmer, the fewer we grow ! Here, all hewn, 

255 lieth our chieftain, a good man on the ground; for 
ever let (one) mourn who now from this war-play 
thinketh to wend. I am old of life; hence will I 
not; for now by the side of my lord, by the so-be- 
loved man, I am minded to lie !" 

260 Then Aethelgar's son (Godric), the warriors all to 
combat urged; oft he (a) javelin let hurl — a bale- 
spear — upon the vikings; so he among the folk went 
foremost, hewed and felled, till that he sank in fight; 
he was not that Godric who fled from the battle. 



PROSE 151 

THE STORY OF SILAS MARNER 

FROM "the ENGLISH NOVEL" 

The fullness of George Eliot's mind at this time 
may be gathered from the rapidity with which one 
work followed another. A book from her pen had 
been appearing regularly each year: The Scenes of 
Clerical Life had appeared in book form in 1858, 6 
Adam Bede was printed in 1859, The Mill on the 
Floss came out in 1860, and now, in 1861, followed 
Silas Marner, the Weaver of Raveloe. It is with the 
greatest reluctance that I find myself obliged to pass 
this book without comment. In some particulars lo 
Silas Marrier is the most remarkable novel in our 
language. On the one hand, when I read the im- 
mortal scene at the Rainbow Inn where the village 
functionaries, the butcher, the farrier, the parish 
clerk and so on are discussing ghosts, bullocks and i5 
other matters over their even-ale, my mind runs to 
Dogberry and Verges and the air feels as if Shake- 
speare were sitting somewhere not far off. On the 
other hand, the downright ghastliness of the young 
Squire's punishment for stealing the long-hoarded 20 
gold of Silas Marner the weaver always carries me 
straight to that pitiless Pardoner's Tale of Chaucer 
in which gold is so cunningly identified with death. 
I am sure you will pardon me if I spend a single 
moment in recalling the plots of these two stories so 25 
far as concerns this point of contact. 

In Chaucer's Pardoner's Tale three riotous young 
men of Flanders are drinking one day at a tavern. 



152 SELECTIONS FROM SIDNEY LANIER 

In the midst of their merriment they hear the clink 
30 of a bell before a dead body which is borne past the 
door on its way to burial. They learn that it is an 
old companion who is dead; all three become sud- 
denly inflamed with mortal anger against Death; 
and they rush forth to slay him wherever they may 
35 find him. Presently they meet an old man. "Why 
do you live so long ? " they mockingly inquire of him. 
"Because," says he, 

"Deth, alas, ne will not han my lif; 
Thus walke I like a resteles caitif, 
. 40 And on the ground, which is my modres gate, 

I knocke with my staf erlich and late • 

And say to hire 'Leve moder, let me in.'" ^ 

"Where is this Death of whom you have spoken ? " 
furiously demanded the three young men. The old 

45 man replied, "You will find him under an oak tree 
in yonder grove." The three rush forward; and 
upon arriving at the oak find three bags full of gold 
coin. Overjoyed at their good fortune they are 
afraid to carry the treasure into town by day lest 

50 they be suspected of robbery. They therefore re- 
solve to wait until night and in the meantime to 
make merry. For the latter purpose one of the 
three goes to town after food and drink. As soon 
as he is out of hearing the two who remain under 

55 the tree resolve to murder their companion on his 
return so that they may be the richer by his portion 
of the treasure; he, on the other hand, whilst buy- 
ing his victual in town, shrewdly drops a great lump 
of poison into the bottle of drink he is to carry 



PROSE 153 

back, so that his companions may perish and he eo 
take all. 

To make a long story short, the whole plot is car- 
ried out. As soon as he who was sent to town re- 
turns, his companions fall upon him and murder 
him; they then proceed merrily to eat and drink 65 
what he has brought; the poison does its work; 
presently all three lie dead under the oak tree by the 
side of the gold, and the old man's direction has 
proved true: they have found death under that 
tree. In George Eliot's story the young English 70 
Squire also finds death in finding gold. You will 
remember how Dunstan Cass in returning late at 
night from a fox-hunt on foot — for he had killed his 
horse in the chase — finds himself near the stone hut 
where Silas Marner the weaver has long plied his 75 
trade, and where he is known to have concealed a 
large sum in gold. The young man is extraordi- 
narily pressed for money; he resolves to take Mar- 
ner's gold; the night is dark and misty, he makes 
his way through mud and darkness to the cottage so 
and finds the door open, Marner being, by the rarest 
of accidents, away from the hut. The young man 
quickly discovers the spot in the floor where the 
weaver kept his gold ; he seizes the two heavy leath- 
ern bags filled with guineas, and the chapter ends, 85 
"So he stepped forward into the darkness." All 
this occurs in Chapter IV. The story then pro- 
ceeds: nothing more is heard of Dunstan Cass in 
the village for many years; the noise of the robbery 
has long ago died away; Silas Marner has one day 90 
found a golden head of hair lying on the very spot 



154 SELECTIONS FROM SIDNEY LANIER 

of his floor where he used to finger his own gold; the 
Httle outcast who had fallen asleep with her head in 
this position, after having wandered into Marner's 
95 cottage, has been brought up by him to womanhood; 
when one day, at a critical period in Silas Marner's 
existence, it happens that in draining some lower 
grounds the pit of an old stone quarry, which had 
for years stood filled with rain-water near his house, 

100 becomes dry, and on the bottom is revealed a skele- 
ton with a leathern bag of gold in each hand. The 
young man plunging out into the dark, laden with 
his treasure, had fallen in and lain for all these years 
to be afterwards brought to light as another phase 

105 of the frequent identity between death and gold. 
Here too, one is obliged to remember those doubly 
dreadful words in Romeo and Juliet, where Romeo 
having with difficulty bought poison from the apoth- 
ecary cries: 

110 "There is thy gold, worse poison to men's souls, 
Doing more murder in this loathsome world 
Than these poor compounds which thou mayst not 

sell. 
I sell thee poison; thou hast sold me none. 
Farewell: buy food and get thyself in flesh." 

115 I must also instance one little passing picture in 
Silas Marner which, though extremely fanciful, is 
yet a charming type of some of the greatest and most 
characteristic work that George Eliot has done. 
Silas Marner had been a religious enthusiast of an 

120 obscure sect of a small manufacturing town of Eng- 
land; suddenly a false accusation of theft in which 



PROSE 155 

the circumstantial evidence was strong against him 
brings him into disgrace among his fellow-disciples; 
with his whole faith in God and man shattered he 
leaves his town, wanders over to the village of Rave- 125 
loe, begins aimlessly to pursue his trade of weaving, 
presently is paid for some work in gold ; in handling 
the coin he is smit with the fascination of its yellow 
radiance, and presently we find him pouring out all 
the prodigious intensity of his nature, which had 130 
previously found a fitter field in religion, in the 
miser's passion. Working night and day, while yet 
a young man he fills his two leathern bags with gold ; 
and George Eliot gives us some vivid pictures of 
how, when his day's work would be done, he would 135 
brighten up the fire in his stone hut which stood at 
the edge of the village, eagerly lift up the particular 
brick of the stone floor under which he kept his 
treasure concealed, pour out the bright yellow heaps 
of coin and run his long white fingers through them 140 
with all the miser's ecstasy. But after he is robbed 
the utter blank in his soul — and one can imagine 
such a blank in such a soul, for he was essentially 
religious — becomes strangely filled. One day a poor 
woman leading her little golden-haired child is mak- 145 
ing her way along the road past JNIarner's cottage; 
she is the wife, by private marriage, of the Squire's 
eldest son, and after having been cruelly treated by 
him for years has now desperately resolved to appear 
with her child at a great merry-making which goes iso 
on at the Squire's to-day, there to expose all and 
demand justice. It so happens however that in her 
troubles she has become an opium-taker; just as 



156 SELECTIONS FROM SIDNEY LANIER 

she is passing Marner's cottage the effect of an un- 

155 usually large dose becomes overpowering; she lies 
down and falls off into a stupor which this time ends 
in death. Meantime the little golden-haired girl 
innocently totters into the open door of Marner's 
cottage during his absence, presently lies down, 

160 places her head with all its golden wealth upon the 
very brick which Marner used to lift up in order to 
bring his gold to light, and so falls asleep, while a 
ray of sunlight strikes through the window and il- 
luminates the little one's head. Marner now re- 

165 turns; he is dazed at beholding what seems almost 
to be another pile of gold at the familiar spot on 
the floor. He takes this new treasure into his hun- 
gry heart and brings up the little girl who becomes 
a beautiful woman and faithful daughter to him. 

170 His whole character now changes and the hardness 
of his previous brutal misanthropy softens into 
something at least approaching humanity. Now it 
is fairly characteristic of George Eliot that she con- 
stantly places before us lives which change in a 

175 manner of which this is typical; that is to say, she 
is constantly showing us intense and hungry spirits 
first wasting their intensity and hunger upon that 
which is unworthy, often from pure ignorance of 
anything worthier, then finding where love is worthy, 

180 and thereafter loving larger loves, and living larger 
lives. 



NOTES 

THE TOURNAMENT (Page 1) 

Joust First 

A joust or just was a combat with spears or lances between 
two armed knights, and was usually a feature of a tourna- 
ment. A tournament might extend over several days and 
include armed contests of various kinds. 

Line 1. — lists. The enclosed space in which tournaments 
were held. For a good description of such lists and of the 
encounters between armed knights see Scott's Ivanhoe, Chap- 
ters VII and VIII. 

9. — palfrey. Strictly speaking, a horse ridden by a lady or 
by a non-combatant, as opposed to a war-horse, caracoled. 
Pranced in zigzag fashion. 

10. — tra-li-ra'd. Sounded his trumpet. 

13. — favors. A favor was a scarf, glove, or some other small 
article given to a knight by his lady-love to be worn in a con- 
test at arms. 

15. — casque. Helmet. 

16. — or . . . or. Either ... or; poetical usage. 

Joust Second 

9. — or ere. Literally, before ever; a poetical phrase. 

15. — hauberk. Coat of mail. 

17. — falchion. Sword, baldric. Belt worn over the shoulder. 

20. — for grace. To win favor. 

24. — sans. Without. Cf. Shakespeare's As You Like It, 
Act II, sc. vii, 1. 166: "Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans 
everything." 

30. — lance in rest. The lance was placed in an iron rest 
attached to the right side of the breastplate. It extended 
back under the rider's arm and was grasped and aimed by the 
right hand. 

43. — doffed. To doff means to do off or take off. 

44. — dole. Charity offering. 

157 



158 SELECTIONS FROM SIDNEY LANIER 



LIFE AND SONG (Page 5) 

19-20. — His song, etc. These lines were selected by La- 
nier's wife to be placed on his tombstone. They are a strik- 
ingly apt characterization of his hfe. 

SONG FOR "THE JACQUERIE"— II (Page 7) 

This fragment is striking partly because of the haunting 
swing of the verse and partly owing to the suggestion it gives 
of a larger and romantic story. It piques the curiosity. 

13. — Wit. Sense or intelUgence, as in the expression half- 
witted. 

THAR'S MORE IN THE MAN THAN THAR IS IN 
THE LAND (Page 8) 

5. — pones. Flat cakes or loaves of corn meal. 

11. — boughten. This form, now a provincialism heard in 
various parts of the United States, was in Shakespeare's time 
in the best of usage. 

THE POWER OF PRAYER (Page 10) 

Mr. Chfford A. Lanier was a younger brother of Sidney, and 
though not a writer by profession he was the author of a num- 
ber of prose sketches and poems. The present poem was 
suggested to him by a brief newspaper notice. He wrote the 
poem and sent it to his brother Sidney, who revised it and 
pubhshed it under their joint authorship. A sketch by Mark 
Twain called IJyicle Daniel's Apparition and Prayer, which 
appeared a year or two before The Power of Prayer, has a very 
similar plot. The Laniers did not know of the existence of 
this sketch, however, until Doctor Holland, then editor of 
Scribner's Monthly, in which the poem appeared, called Clif- 
ford Lanier's attention to the fact. 

THE SYMPHONY (Page 15) 

In a letter to his friend Gibson Peacock, dated March 24, 
1875, Lanier thus speaks of The Symphony: 

"About four days ago, a certain poem which I had vaguely 
ruminated for a week before took hold of me hke a real James 
River ague, and I have been in a mortal shake with the same, 
day and night, ever since. I call it The Symphony : 1 person- 



NOTES 159 

ify each instrument in the orchestra, and make them discuss 
various deep social questions of the times, in the progress of 
the music. It is now nearly finished; and I shall be rejoiced 
thereat, for it verily racks all the bones of my spirit." 

This poem was the means of bringing about an acquaintance 
between Lanier and Bayard Taylor. Taylor was at that 
time one of the leading hterary men of America while Lanier 
was comparatively unkno^^^l. Mr. Peacock, the warm friend 
and admirer of Lanier, had sent Taylor the newly pubhshed 
Symphony. The friendly criticism of the poem by Taylor 
brought a letter to him from Lanier which began a friendship 
that lasted until Taylor's death. 

The Symphony first appeared in Lippincotl's Magazine in 
June, 1875. It is a protest against commerciaUsm and an 
appeal for a return to a wider charity, purer ideals, and greater 
love. In championing the cause of the poor Lanier shows a 
singularly modern attitude. If he had lived to the present, we 
may be sure that he would have been intensely interested in 
the great social and economic questions now so fervently 
discussed, for he believed heart and soul in the universal 
brotherhood of man. 

The Trade of the poem might well be the capital of the 
present day, and its reply to the appeal of the poor has a mod- 
ern ring. 

"Go! 

There's plenty that can, if you can't: we know. 

Move out, if you think you're underpaid. 

The poor are prohfic; we're not afraid; 

Trade is trade." 

As also the lines: 

"Does business mean. Die, you — live, I? 
Then ' Trade is trade ' but sings a he : 
'Tis only war grown miserly. 
If business is battle, name it so: 
War-crimes less will shame it so, 
And widows less will blame it so." 

102. — polyphone. A complex of many sounds. 

145. — minevers. Minever was a fur often mentioned in 
early Enghsh writers; it is not certain from what animal it 
came. 



160 SELECTIONS FROM SIDNEY LANIER 

161. — lotos-sleeps. The lotos if eaten was supposed to pro- 
duce forgetfulness of the past. Read Tennyson's The Lotos- 
Eaters. 

166. — leal. Loyal. 

171-177. — Much time is run, etc. These lines allude to the 
days of pagan mythology when instead of loving Nature her- 
self directly men gave their praise and worship to inferior 
divinities. 

178-182. — Later, a sweet Voice, etc. The teaching of Christ 
with its message of human brotherhood. 

180. — confines of ethnic dread. Boundaries imposed by the 
dread of or prejudice against people of other races than one's 
own. 

181. — covenant head. Bound by the covenant or compact 
of the Jewish church. 

240. — mercery. Trading. A mercer was originally a dealer 
in cloths. 

— 241-248. — / would my lover, etc. An ideal of manly love 
worthy of Galahad himself. 

254. — lorn. Lost, from the Anglo-Saxon past participle loren. 
270. — caitiff. Originally meant captive; hence miserable, 
cowardly. 

- 294-302. — Shall woman scorch, etc. Lanier was a firm be- 
liever in a single standard of virtue for men and women. 

311.— Pembroke. Lord Herbert of Cherbury (1581-1648), 
who served in the English army in the Netherlands, was 
knighted by James I; author of The Life of Lord Herbert. A 
descendant of the Earl of Pembroke. 

326. — hautboy. An oboe; a slender wood- wind instrument 
with a mouthpiece containing a reed. 

332. — Man. Jesus Christ. Lanier may have had in mind 
the passage in Mark x, 15: "Verily I say unto you, whoso- 
ever shall not receive the Kingdom of God as a little child, 
he shall in no wise enter therein." 

336. — bassoon. A wood- wind instrument with a heavier, 
deeper tone than the oboe. 

340. — runes. Poetry of the early Teutonic peoples; more 
strictly, the alphabetic characters in which the poetry was 
written. 

347. — sea-fugue. A fugue is a kind of musical composition 
in which different independent themes or melodies are devel- 
oped through a succession of measures and at last are blended 
into a unified whole. 



NOTES 161 

355. — weltering. Confused, palimpsest. A parchment that 
has been used several times, the earlier writings having been 
erased or merely written over. 

364. — glozing. Deceits. 



THE DISCOVERY (Page 27) 

The following eight sonnets with the six introductory lines 
are merely a part of the complete poem. The poem first ap- 
peared in Lippincolt's Magazine, June, 1876. 

41-42. — Judas needle, etc. An allusion to the variation in 
the compass which occm-red during the voyage of Columbus 
and which so alarmed the crew. 

50. — o'er-defalking. Over-yielding, too easy. 

55. — Polos. The port in Spain from which, in 1492, Co-- 
lumbus set sail on his famous voyage of discovery. 

63. — Gomera. One of the Canary Islands west of Africa. 

64. — caravels. A kind of vessel with broad, blunt bows, 
high, narrow stern, and three or four masts. Two of the ves- 
sels of Columbus were caravels. 

77. — Slimy-weeded sea. The Sargasso Sea, a section of the 
Atlantic west of Africa filled with vast masses of seaweed. 

79. — sunk Atlantis. An allusion to the ancient beUef that 
somewhere off the straits of Gibraltar there was an island that 
had been sunk deep in the sea by some great natural cata- 
clysm. 

93. — Salve Regina. The opening words of a hymn to the 
Virgin, much used in the Roman Catholic Church. 

110. — Pedro Gutierrez. "A gentleman of the Iving's bed- 
chamber" who accompanied Columbus on the Santa Maria. 

113. — Sanchez of Segovia. A gentleman sent by the King 
and Queen of Spain to accompany the expedition as an in- 
spector. 

EVENING SONG (Page 32) 

This poem appeared in LippincotVs Magazine, January, 
1877. 

6-7. — As Egypt's pearl, etc. An allusion to the story that 
at a banquet given to Antony, Cleopatra once had a pearl dis- 
solved in some strong liquid which she afterwards drank to the 
great Roman's health. 



162 SELECTIONS FROM SIDNEY LANIER 



SONG OF THE CHATTAHOOCHEE (Page 32) 

This is the most musical of Lanier's poems and one of the 
most musical in the whole range of English poetry. The 
remarkable effect of the poem is chiefly produced by skillful 
alliteration, or by repetition of words or of similar vowel 
sounds sometimes in the same line, sometimes in neighboring 
lines. The student should read, for purposes of comparison, 
Southey's Cataract of Lodore and Tennyson's Brook. 

1, 2. — Habersham, Hall. Counties in the northeastern part 
of Georgia. 

14. — thrall. Captive. The thrall was in early England a 
serf or bondman. 

THE MOCKING-BIRD (Page 34) 

3. — sunim'd the woods in song. This may mean that he 
summed up in himself the musical life of the woods, or that he 
imitated in his songs all the birds of the woods. 

3-7. — or typic drew, etc. Representing different types of 
birds, he imitated the cry made by hungry watching hawks, 
the notes of lonely, languid doves, etc. 

7. — bosky. Bushy, wooded. 

TAMPA ROBINS (Page 35) 
18. — Gramercy. Thanks; from the French grand merci. 

THE REVENGE OF HAMISH (Page 36) 

Lanier got the plot of this poem from William Black's novel 
MacLeod of Dare. In Chapter III MacLeod tells the story 
to his London host. 

9. — he stood as if Death had the form of a deer. He stood still 
as death. 

16. — quarry. Game. 

17. — waxed wild. Grown very angry. 

22. — henchman. Follower, attendant. 

23. — biirn. Brook. 

28. — nether. Lower. 

41. — kern. In Shakespeare this word is used of light-armed 
or irregular soldiers. See Macbeth, I, ii, 13; and V, vii, 17. 
Here used in the sense of mean or wretched fellow. 



NOTES 163 

55. — Lazarus. The young man raised from the dead by 
Jesus. See John xi. 

QO.— gillie. In the Scotch Highlands, a servant or male 
attendant. 

63. — fee. In the old feudal sense of a piece of landed prop- 
erty; explained in the next line "Yon castle and lands." 

82. — bonny. The usual meaning is handsome, fine; here 
rather a term of endearment, "dear." bairn. Scottish for 
child. 

THE MARSHES OF GLYNN (Page 43) 
39. — mete. Boundary. 

MARSH SONG AT SUNSET (Page 53) 

2. — Caliban. The huge misshapen half-man half-beast of 
Shakespeare's Tempest. 

3. — Ariel-cloud. Ariel was the airy spirit of the Tempest 
who did the bidding of Prospero, the banished duke and 
worker of magic. 

5. — Prospero. See above. 

13. — Antonio. Brother of Prospero who usurps from him 
the dukedom and sets him and his daughter Miranda adrift 
on the sea. 

OWL AGAINST ROBIN (Page 53) 

4S.— Chesterfield stars. The Earl of Chesterfield (1674- 
1773) was celebrated for his fine manners. His Letters to his 
son, containing advice as to manners and conduct, are famous. 

49. — urinic at. Fail to see, ignore. 

51. — Baalbec. A famous ancient city of Syria about 35 miles 
northwest of Damascus. The center of worship of Baal, the 
sun-god. 

71. — cultus. Cult; used of the worship of, or devotion to, a 
god or system of religion or philosophy. 

SUNRISE (Page 58) 

This was Lanier's last poem. It was written in Baltimore 
in December, 1880, when he was in an extremely weakened 



164 SELECTIONS FROM SIDNEY LANIER 

condition. Mrs. Lanier says of the circumstances of its com- 
position : 

"... The lines of Sunrise were so silently traced that 
for successive days I removed the little bedside desk and 
replaced in its sliding drawer the pale-blue leaves faintly 
penciled, with no leisure for even mental conjecture of them. 
. . . That hand 'too weak to sustain the effort of carrying 
food to the lips,' I had propped to the level of the adjustable 
writing desk. 

"After New Year the perfect manuscript was put into my 
hand, and I was bidden to read it." 

17. — gospelling. Teaching truths, preaching. 

26-28. — This is a very difficult passage to explain. The 
general drift of it is as follows: 

Oh, you cunning green leaves ! Just as you light up the 
darkness and bring some meaning out of it, just as you throw 
light on the mystery of man's existence, so you have lighted 
up the darkness of my mind and taught me that really we 
know more than we appear to know about the great questions 
of the universe. 

32. — purfling. Embroidering, decorating. 

59. — alcheimj. The false science of the Middle Ages, which 
aimed at transmuting the baser metals into gold, finding a uni- 
versal cure for disease and indefinitely prolonging human life. 

62. — mejistrimm. Anything that will dissolve another body, 
a solvent. 

72-79. — -Oh, if thy soul's, etc. If your soul feels stifled from 
trying to live in a close spiritual atmosphere just because you 
craved the companionship of other men, when you have found 
no man wise or liberal enough to accept the new message you 
bring, then here in the free wide spaces of the marsh you can 
open your heart freely. 

90. — diaphanous. Transparent. 

96. — // a bound of degree to this grace be laid. If any at- 
tempt is made to measure or define its limits. 

143. — dateless Olympian leisure. The leisure of the Olym- 
pian gods. 

153. — born in the purple. Of imperial rank. Purple was 
the official color worn by the Roman emperors, hence, born in 
the purple or in the royal palace came to mean of unques- 
tioned imperial birth or rank. 

155. — innermost Guest At the marriage of elements. An allu- 
sion to the chemical action of the sun in the world of matter. 



NOTES 165 

156. — fellow of publicans. One who associates with every- 
body, a thorough democrat. The publicans, or tax col- 
lectors, in the time of the Roman empire were a despised 
class. 

POEM OUTLINES (Page 67) 

The poem outlines which appear in the text are only a few 
out of a large number which Lanier left among his papers. 
"These poem sketches were jotted in pencil on the backs of 
envelopes, on the margins of musical programmes, on little 
torn scraps of paper, amid all sorts of surroundings, whenever 
the dream came to him. Some arc mere flashes of simile in 
unrhymed couplets; others are definite roimded outlines, in- 
stinct with the beauty of idea, but not yet hewn to the line of 
perfect form; one, at least, is the beginning of quite a long 
narrative in verse." 

These fragments are here given to show the student some- 
thing of the way the poet's mind worked. From some such 
suggestions as these probably developed most of his finished 
poems. 

THE WAR FLOWER (Page 70) 

The War Flower is an interlude of nearly two chapters 
midway of Lanier's novel, Tiger Lilies, which was written 
and published in 1867. The subject has a special signifi- 
cance at the present time because of the great European war 
now in progress and the discussions that have grown out of a 
consideration of its many aspects. 



THE CHARGE OF CAIN SMALLIN (Page 76) 

This episode was based on a personal experience of Lanier's 
during the war. 

98. — Herr von Hardenberg. George Friedrich Philipp von 
Hardenberg (1772-1801), whose pen-name was Novalis, was 
a noted German poet and prose writer. 

102-105. — Ilatis Dietrich, etc. This allusion has not been 
iilcntified. 

105. — A fortiori. With the gi'cater force. 

130. — modus agendi. Mode of proceilure, the thing to do. 



166 SELECTIONS FROM SIDNEY LANIER 

143. — jigote. Mixture; usually spelled "gigot." 
186. — caballero. Horseman, cavalier; a Spanish word used 
here humorously. 

THE OCKLAWAHA RIVER (Page 90) 

This selection was part of a book on Florida written during 
the early summer of 1875. The present chapter first ap- 
peared in Lippincott's Magazine in November of that year; 
the book itself was published the following year. 

26. — wry-trussed. Carelessly dressed. 

126. — in faudbus. In [his] jaws. 

156. — Elysian tranquillity. A tranquillity like that of the 
Elysian fields which, according to the mythology of the an- 
cient Greeks, was the abode of the blessed after death. 

187. — Saurian. A lizard-Uke reptile. 

228. — coign of vantage. Corner or point, an echo from 
Shakespeare's Macbeth, Act I, sc. vi, 11. 6-8: 

"No jutty, frieze, 
Buttress, nor coign of vantage, but this bird 
Hath made his pendent bed and procreant cradle." 

239. — fauteuils. A French word for easy chair. 

244. — machicolated towers. Towers having openings at the 
top through which the defenders may throw down missiles 
on their assailants. 

246. — Una. A character in Spenser's Faerie Queene, sup- 
posed to be a personification of truth. Angela's Moses. The 
celebrated statue of Moses by the great Italian painter and 
sculptor Michelangelo (1475-1564). 

247. — the Laocoon group. The celebrated group of statu- 
ary representing Laocoon and his two sons being devoured 
by serpents. According to the story in Virgil's /Eneid the 
priest Laocoon incurred the wrath of Athena when he at- 
tempted to dissuade the Trojans from taking into Troy the 
wooden horse which the Greeks had built and filled with 
armed men. In anger Athena sent three huge serpents 
which devoured Laocoon and his sons. 

248. — Arthur and Lancelot. Characters in certain mediaeval 
romances; the former a legendary king of Britain, the latter 
his bravest knight. 

252. — columbiads. A kind of heavy, old-fashioned muzzle- 
loading cannon. 



NOTES 167 

266. — purfling. Border ornamentation. Chasetnent. Chas- 
ing, engraving. 

321. — plagal cadence. A technical musical term difficult for 
any one but a trained musician to understand. Syrtcopation. 
A peculiar system of musical accent, much used in our mod- 
ern "rag-time." 

327. — tempo. Time as applied to music. 

330. — allegro. A musical term meaning fast. 

331. — Da capo. A musical term meaning to return to the 
beginning and repeat; usually indicated by the letters D. C, 

332. — dominant. The fifth note in the scale of any musical 
key; so called because of its great importance in musical 
harmony. 

350. — modits. Usage. 

355. — Asger Hamerik. See Introduction, p. xxiii, for La- 
nier's relations with this noted musician. Edward Grieg. The 
well-known Norwegian composer (1843-1907). 

356. — Thomas's orchestra. For many years Theodore 
Thomas (1835-1905) conducted a symphony orchestra, first 
in New York, and later in Chicago. He was one of the fore- 
most musical conductors in America. 

358. — Nordische Suite. Northern Suite. A musical suite 
is a composition consisting of several closely related move- 
ments or parts, usually written for the orchestra. See p. 74 
of Letters of Sidney Lanier. 

359. — concerto. An elaborate musical composition for the 
piano, usually with an orchestral accompaniment. 

392. — the apostate Julian. The Roman emperor (3G1-363), 
under whose reign the empire relapsed into paganism. 

441. — lymph. Pure, transparent liquid. 

442. — gar-fish. A long-bodied, long-nosed fish found in 
southern waters. 

499. — malachite. A kind of green stone used in making 
jewelry. 

502. — Bodmer. Karl Bodmer, a Swiss landscape artist and 
etcher who lived in the first half of the nineteenth century. 

50G. — boscage. Foliage. 

THE TRAGEDY OF THE ALAMO (Page 107) 

This chronicle of heroism is taken from a longer article on 
San Antonio which was written in 1875 aiul first appeared in 
Lipjnncolt's Magazine in October of the same year. 



168 SELECTIONS FROM SIDNEY LANIER 

36. — General Santa Ana. Mexican general and for a time 
President of Mexico. 

42. — James Boivie. Famous frontiersman and hunter; 
his name was given to a kind of hunting-knife that was very 
popular on the early western frontier. 

A3.— David Crockett. Famous hunter, pohtician, and hu- 
morist; for several terms member of Congress from Tennes- 
see; author of an entertaining and humorous Autobiography 
(1786-1836). 

THE STORY OF A PROVERB (Page 117) 

This selection appeared in St. Nicholas in May, 1877. 

15. — grand vizier. Chief minister; the name still given to 
the chief adviser of the Sultan of Turkey. 

36. — teetotum. A child's toy, somewhat like a top to be 
twirled by the fingers. 

THE LEGEND OF ST. LEONOR (Page 126) 

3. — Armorica. In the geography of the Middle Ages the 
northwestern part of France, Brittany. 

BOB: THE STORY OF OUR MOCKING-BIRD 

(Page 129) 

4. — Sir Philip Sidney. Famous English soldier and writer; 
author of Arcadia, Defense of Poesy, and a series of sonnets, 
Astrophel and Stella; died of wounds received in the battle 
of Zutphen (1554-1586). 

6. — Don Quixote de la Mancha. A romantic and half- 
deranged Spanish knight who is the hero of a famous work 
by Cervantes (1547-1616). 

89. — Zutphen. A town in Holland, scene of a famous bat- 
tle between the Dutch and EngUsh against the Spanish in 
1586. 

166. — Keats. John Keats, famous English poet (1795- 
1821). His death is said to have been hastened by a savage 
review of his long poem, Endymion, which appeared in the 
Quarterly Review, in 1818. 

194. — Chimcera. A monster which, according to Greek 
mythology, had the head of a lion, the body of a goat, and 
the tail of a dragon. 



NOTES 169 

296. — the fatal shears. An allusion to the belief of the 
ancient Greeks that the destinies of men were determined 
by three fates. One, Clotho, spun the thread of life; another, 
Lachesis, measured its length; and the third, Atropos, cut it 
off with her shears. 

AN ENGLISH HERO OF A THOUSAND YEARS AGO 
(Page 142) 

This selection is from Music and Poetry, a collection of 
essays which appeared separately in various magazines and 
were collected and published in book form after Lanier's 
death. 

The story herein told is from an Anglo-Saxon poem by an 
unknown author, dating about 993 A. D., and called the 
Battle of Maldon. 

\. — the chronicler. The writer of the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, 
an ancient record of historical events extending from about 
A. D. 449 to 1154. It is the work of many hands. 

2. — investitures. The official investing or conferring of 
office on a church dignitary. 

25. — vikings. The North Sea pirates who plundered the 
coasts of western Europe from the eighth to the tenth cen- 
tury. 

30. — churlish. Rude, unobliging. 

39. — manor. A landed estate. 

40. — mark. A weight used in reckoning gold and silver, 
equivalent to about eight ounces. 

79. — javelin. Short spear or dart to be thrown. 

81. — buckler. Shield. 

90. — liegemen. Sworn followers. 

91. — urist. Knew. 

9G. — scathful. Bearing scath or harm. 

97. — render rings. Pay with rings. The ancient chieftains 
often rewarded services by the giving of rings or armlets of 
gold or silver. 

108. — slim ash. Slender spear. 

117.— Prince Aethelred. Iving of the English (978-1016). 

136. — yare. Ready. 

138. — Sheller-of-Men. A complimentary epithet for Byrht- 
noth. 

144. — recked not of. Cared not for. 

147. — bridge-ivards. Guardians or defenders of the bridges. 



170 SELECTIONS FROM SIDNEY LANIER 

15 L — gave over-much land. Voluntarily withdrew so as to 
allow the vikings to cross the stream and approach to fight. 

152. — wJiisl. Were silent. Byrhthelm's bairn. Byrhtnoth. 
bairn. Child. 

155. — wot. Knows. 

162. — ivard. Defence. 

173. — bills. Long-handled weapons with a hook and pike 
at the end. 

174. — quittance. Payment. 

175. — sheerly. Fairly, clearly. 

178. — bower-thane. Literally chamber follower, something 
more intimate than mere follower. 

188. — carl. Churl, common fellow. 

199. — corselet. Breastplate. 

201 . — blither. Happier. 

207. — unwaxen. Not fully grown. 

257. — wend. Go. 

261. — bale-spear. Death-bearing spear. 

THE STORY OF SILAS MARNER (Page 151) 

This selection is taken from one of a course of lectures which 
Lanier delivered at Johns Hopkins University in the spring of 
1881. The original name for the course was From Jischylus 
to George Eliot, The Development of Personality, but when the 
lectures were published after Lanier's death the briefer title. 
The English Novel, was given to them. 

14. — farrier. A man who combined the trade of a black- 
smith with that of veterinary surgeon. 

17. — Dogberry. The ignorant, self-important, and talkative 
constable in Shakespeare's Much Ado About Nothing. Verges. 
Another hvunorous character in the same play. 

22. — Chaucer. The great English poet, sometimes called 
the father of English poetry, chiefly known as the author of 
The Canterbury Tales (1340-1400). 

ZS-42.— Death alas, etc. Freely paraphrased, these lines 
run as follows: "Death alas will not take my life; therefore I 
walk about a miserable, I'estless fellow; and on the ground, 
which is my mother's gate, I knock with my staff early and 
late, and say to her, 'Dear mother, let me in.' " 




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